Truth or Daredevil
by MarcusJuniusBrutus
Summary: While searching for potential Secret Warriors recruits, Skye hears about Daredevil: a vigilante from her old neighborhood who may have superpowers. She and Simmons head down to Hell's Kitchen to try to uncover his identity but they find both Daredevil and the truth to be extremely elusive.
1. Homecoming

Chapter 1: Homecoming

 _Continuity Notes:_ For _AOS_ , this takes place at the end of Season 2, between the scene of Skye getting her Secret Warriors assignment and Simmons disappearing. (Even though Skye calls herself "Daisy" in that one scene, Simmons is still calling her "Skye" when she returns, so I assume Daisy is still mostly going by "Skye" for a little while.) For _DD_ , it's between Seasons 1 & 2\. Enjoy!

xXx

Skye always knew that her past made her the person she was, but most of it only lived in her memories. She had the hula doll that once lived in her van, but even that van was gone now – impounded when the US government start seizing SHIELD bases. A lot of that purging was by design. No baggage, no attachments, no pain when things got left behind.

That didn't mean she didn't keep tabs, on the people and places that once meant something to her. For instance, she knew that Miles Laydon, her hacker ex-boyfriend, was currently doing time in Travis State Jail after getting caught stealing someone's credit card information. Similarly, Saint Agnes Orphanage stayed on her radar, and she always sent a few presents during their annual Christmas drive, or money when she wasn't broke.

It wasn't that she enjoyed her time there. Really, she hated every second, with the nuns and the rules and the bleakness of the place, all constantly overshadowed by a looming feeling of worthlessness. She was there because no one wanted her, no one could ever love her. At least that's what she thought at the time. But the important thing was that she didn't want any of the kids there to feel like she did. She wanted to know, to some extent, what went on in that little corner of the world, and what she could do to make it better.

It was still a tad jarring when she strolled into the gym and heard Piper and Davis casually discussing the home of her youth. Her different worlds weren't allowed to collide like that, or when they did, it always meant bad things. There was that time that SHIELD itself detained Miles for matters unrelated to his current crimes. Then, of course, there were the various run-ins SHIELD had had with her parents.

"What was that about Saint Agnes?" she asked, shedding her jacket and tossing it over a bench. "Are you talking about the orphanage in New York City?"

Davis handed over his phone, which had a video paused on a blurry shot of a building. The title above the video read "Daredevil Saves Orphanage from Ninjas". "Watch from the beginning."

"Davis loves this vigilante stuff," Piper sighed, giving an exaggerated shake of her head.

"And ninjas!"

"Sure. Boys love their ninjas."

Somewhat bemused, Skye scrolled back the video, which had begun after the promised ninja fight was already in full swing. A handful of onlookers had gathered in front of Saint Agnes – yep, it was _her_ Saint Agnes – and most had their phones out, trying to capture the memory of that time that they stood there stupidly watching a man in a red bodysuit duking it out with some katana-wielding dudes in black. "Are you sure they're ninjas?" she asked. "I thought swords were a samurai thing and that ninjas used knives and stuff."

"I don't know about that, but they're wearing black, and look at the way they're flipping around. They're ninjas for sure."

They were indeed putting on a good show, taking full advantage of cars, signs, and everything else in the area as a few tried to hem in their opponent and the others attempted to scale the building. The guy in red (Daredevil, presumably) was doing the same, but he was completely owning them, and he was doing it with far more spinning kicks than seemed necessary.

Skye was reluctantly impressed, watching him duck and dodge and weave around people and then yanking the ninjas off the building, some by hand and some with a long cable that stretched between two red sticks. He was also using those sticks to hit a lot of people in the face while delivering some truly devastating kicks that combined strength, agility, and precision. "Oh, look, he's flipping around again," she deadpanned, downplaying her admiration.

She did flinch when one of the bystanders was grabbed, but it turned out that there was no need to worry, because that ninja soon took a stick to the face, which bounced back into Daredevil's gloved hand mid-backflip. (This backflip was begun to avoid a leg sweep from another ninja, who was soon downed.) "New Yorkers," Piper scoffed as the crowd merely shuffled back a few steps and kept filming.

On the screen, Daredevil spun around, swinging his sticks to deflect two small flashes that were aiming for his back. "Arrows," Davis informed Skye as she squinted, trying to figure out what happened. The comment was unnecessary, as Daredevil then sprang up the side of the building, using mostly window ledges as footholds as he reached his last adversary, who was still uselessly firing a longbow. "It looks like a video game," he enthused, watching the effortless ascent.

She wanted to pause and replay those last few seconds, but she let the rest of the video play out. "Those shots came from above and behind him, and he still knew they were coming and managed to deflect them?"

"I know, right? Guy's got powers for sure."

The rest of the video consisted of Daredevil reaching the archer and unceremoniously chucking him off the roof (fortunately out of sight of the camera) just before the cops finally rolled in, lights flashing and sirens wailing. Daredevil split as the bystanders swarmed the cops to tell them what happened, running between the twitching bodies of half-conscious ninjas. At this point, the videographer started moving, too, and his footage got shaky as he ran. Then it cut out.

"Bad footage," Skye commented. "Weird that it was so dark. I mean, for the city." She shrugged. "I guess the ninjas turned off some lights. Or this Daredevil guy did. Too bad there's not a good look at his face, or even his jawline." Most of his head was concealed by a mask, of course.

"I think he's white," Davis said helpfully.

"Great, that should narrow it down, but I'll see if our computers can make anything of him anyway. Is there any better footage?"

"Not from this fight, but he's been around a while, so you might get something."

This didn't seem urgent, so Skye ran through her morning routine and showered up before hitting the Internet, spreading out in Coulson's office because he had the most screen space. He puttered in eventually, frowning over an iPad and balancing a cup of coffee in the stump of his left arm, which was currently supported by a wide sling. "You'll get wrinkles that way," Skye told him.

"What?" he asked distractedly. Then his mind caught up to what she'd said and his forehead smoothed out. "Oh, I'm afraid that ship has sailed."

"What'cha workin' on?"

"Just some drama with Talbot. And you..." He glanced up at the giant displays taking up most of one wall as he carefully unloaded his iPad and coffee onto his desk. "You're interested in street-level vigilantes now?"

"The theory is he might have powers. I want to check it out, if that's okay with you, boss."

"Go ahead, and take Simmons with you."

"Here's the thing, though: This guy's been around for a couple years, and there's not a single halfway decent video or picture of him. They're all dark and blurry and at terrible angles. I have nowhere to start."

Coulson smiled gently. "Skye, you know where to start."

She released a deep sigh and let her chin fall to her chest. "Guess I'd better get going. Sure I can't take May?"

"Sorry, but she's getting a much-deserved vacation, while Simmons is mostly staring at that old monolith. Anyway, I'm sure you can handle the fighting just fine on your own."

So, he wanted to send moral support with her. Skye heaved herself out of her chair and closed down her work for the day. "Well," she said, "who says you can't go home?"


	2. Reunion

Chapter 2: Reunion

New York City had the same background din as her preferred stomping grounds in LA, but the air had a colder sting to it, despite the fact that she was in a neighborhood called Hell's Kitchen. The sky overhead was grayer, too, reminding Skye that she wasn't welcome here. She found herself standing with her arms crossed defensively over her chest, instinctively shielding herself from the world like she used to do as a child.

"Is it smaller than you remember?" Simmons asked tentatively, her perky British tones tempered by the occasion.

"Saint Agnes was always small, and the city was always big." They skirted around the small section of the street that police had half-heartedly cordoned off with yellow tape. The cops didn't seem too invested in enforcing the sanctity of their crime scene, which probably meant they knew what happened and were only going through the motions for form's sake.

Skye hesitated at the door, but knocked under Simmons's encouraging scrutiny. She hadn't really expected to recognize the nun at the door – there was always a bit of a turnover in the ranks – but she got a little twist in her gut when she saw a round, familiar woman. "Sister Barbara!" she said with false cheer. Sister Barbara was one of the more lenient ones around here, but even so, it was hard to let her guard down around any of them. "I don't know if you remember me, but..."

"Mary Sue!" the elderly woman exclaimed, pulling her into a firm but mercifully quick embrace. "I wouldn't forget a single child who passed through these doors. Please, come in! And who's this with you?"

"Jemma Simmons," Simmons reported, holding out a tiny hand to shake. It was soon enveloped. "I'm a friend of Mary's." Her lips twitched with barely-restrained mirth. She'd giggled quite a bit on the quinjet when Skye first informed her of her old orphanage-bestowed name of Mary Sue Poots. "She was just visiting me in the city and she asked if I wouldn't mind swinging by here with her. I'm not from the city originally; I've just been staying here for work. Party planning," she added unnecessarily, giving more details than necessary. "I love the clientele in New York. Anyway, we saw that bit on the news about Daredevil, and Mary was concerned about you all and the kids here, and she insisted we come right down."

Skye jumped in with her part of the story. "I wanted to make sure you were all right and see if there's anything I can do to help."

Sister Barbara seemed to buy this explanation. "Some of the children are a little shaken, though the young ones were having the time of their lives. Daredevil asked the Reverend Mother to keep everyone inside away from the windows, but they kept trying to sneak off to get a peek at him." She shook her head. "I don't think they really knew what sort of danger they were in. Still, it's always helpful to have a few extra bodies around here. Would you mind staying to read them a few stories? It might take their minds off of things. Then you can have dinner with us afterwards."

"Absolutely." She let herself be herded into a room with a dozen early elementary-aged kids who were currently catapulting Jenga blocks at each other. All blocks fell to the floor when the sister engulfed the doorway and told them to behave for their guests. She then left Skye and Jemma alone with the children to attend to her other duties, which seemed somewhat negligent to Skye. While Sister Barbara technically knew Skye at one point in time, she had no way of knowing what sort of person Skye had grown into.

She could tell from Simmons's wrinkled nose that she had similar thoughts, but that wasn't why they were here. "So, I heard you guys had a visitor last night!" Skye said, blithely ignoring Sister Barbara's instructions.

They all started clamoring to give her details at once, all very outlandish and probably made up stories about ninjas actually getting into the building, about Daredevil and various other superheroes (mostly Avengers) swooping in to save the day, and about themselves having a ringside seat for the whole show. "Did any of you get a good look at Daredevil?"

"He wears all red!" a little girl helpfully supplied. "And his eyes are red, too. And his hair."

Another kid jumped in to correct her. "No, that's all part of the costume. His head just looks red 'cause of the mask."

"And he wears red and _black_ ," someone else put in. "And he has that cool stick thing."

"He has two sticks."

"It's one."

"No, the two can just hook together."

"No, the one comes apart."

The bickering continued without providing Skye any real clues. One claimed to have heard Daredevil talking with the Reverend Mother, but when pressed, she admitted she hadn't heard very well. Eventually, Skye gave in, read them their stories, and went with them to the dining room when it was time to eat. Simmons mostly stayed silent, listening to the children talk about whatever they wanted to talk about. Some of it was school, clothes, and other normal, non-hero related subjects. She also spent some time braiding the girls' hair and letting them do her short locks.

The small herd of them joined the growing crowd that scattered across the seven long tables – one for grown-ups and six for kids. Everything looked exactly as she remembered it: mismatched children being glared at and told off by harried nuns. The only difference was the presence of another visitor at the grown-up table. A handsome man in a brown suit sat at near end of the table, talking quietly with a nun that Skye didn't know. The round red sunglasses on his face and the cane folded up and sitting with the briefcase at his feet told her he was blind. Something about his smile told her she'd met him before.

It came to her in about half a second, and Skye found herself hurtling toward the table calling his name. "Matt!" she cried out, announcing her presence. He'd grown up since she'd seen him last and was sporting a healthy crop of stubble, but he was definitely the same deceptively quiet boy that caused a few broken hearts around these parts.

He tilted his head in confusion, but like her, it didn't take him long to place the voice. "Skye?" At least he remembered the name she'd chosen for herself, not just the one forced upon her. He rose from his chair, possibly anticipating her, but she decided it'd be polite to narrate anyway.

"I'm about to hug you!" She didn't give him much advanced notice, but he did gladly return the hug. Once they disentangled themselves, Skye and Simmons went through their introductions again and Skye informed Simmons of Matt Murdock's status as a fellow Saint Agnes alum. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here on business. I'm a lawyer now, but try not to hold that against me." He turned toward the center of the table with an eyebrow raised, looking for permission to say more about the case.

The Reverend Mother filled in the pertinent details. "It's about last night's dealings. One of those fools loitering around outside tripped over a curb and broke an ankle. Now he's trying to sue us, saying that we should have more lights outside."

"He's got no case; there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Still, I had to come over and talk over the details. I'll also need to check out the scene once the police are gone. I'd give them another hour."

Sensing an opportunity, Skye quickly offered, "I could come with you and take some pictures if you want."

"Sure, sounds great." They settled in for a bland meat-and-potatoes meal with some brownish carrots on the side. "So, what are you up to these days?"

"Computer programming."

"And how do you and Ms. Simmons know each other?"

"Just Jemma is fine," Simmons said, smoothing her blouse, then catching herself at it and blushing. "I hired her to write some code for an event scheduling program. She's really quite good at what she does. We just hit it off after that."

Matt chewed through a particularly tough-looking piece of meat with a thoughtful expression before he finally replied, "Well, I'm glad she can do what she enjoys without getting in trouble for it."

Skye cupped her mouth behind the back of her hand and lowered her voice. "Believe it or not, Simmons, I used to get in trouble for sneaking onto the computer. And then hacking different websites."

"Really? Who'd have thought?"

They all went on chatting, Skye and Simmons expanding on their fabricated backstory and Matt telling them about his time at Columbia University. The nuns were quick to point out that he graduated top of his class and now did mostly pro bono work in the neighborhood, besides volunteering at the orphanage when his schedule permitted. He worked hard to steer the conversation away from himself as much as possible, and Skye honestly couldn't tell if it was out of modesty or if there was some embarrassing tidbit he was afraid they'd expose.

"We should probably get to work before we lose our light," Matt said eventually, feeling the time on his watch. "Cops should be gone by now."

"Dead ninjas don't warrant much of a crime scene here, huh?"

"No one died."

"What about that archer that was on the roof? That guy definitely died for sure."

Matt adjusted his glasses uncomfortably. "You might want to keep your voice down." She thought she had been, but she could also see why he wouldn't want the kids to hear this little chat. "The police never found a body," he continued. "He either walked away or was carried away, but the man in the mask never kills people. At least, he hasn't so far."

"'The man in the mask?' You mean Daredevil?"

"Yeah, that's what people used to call him. Even now, some think that 'Daredevil' is a little over the top. Along with the new costume. I hear it's very red."

Skye did a mental side-by-side comparison of the two costumes she'd seen. The current red one embraced the dramatic flair of the superhero life while seeming to provide some protection. The old black one was thinner – regular fabric, it looked like, but the tight shirt did flaunt his muscular form. "They both seem okay to me." The three of them rose and headed for the door, Matt taking Skye's arm and walking half a step behind her as she guided him to the street. "Have you ever met him?"

"Me? No, but I've met people he's saved. I've represented some people he's fought."

"Bad guys?"

He hesitated. "They knew they did wrong, but I believe they genuinely wanted to turn their lives around, and they were entitled to a fair trial, like anyone else."

Releasing Matt, Skye dug around in her purse until she found her phone, and then she began snapping pictures as he directed. He seemed distracted, but that wasn't unusual for him, as Skye recalled. He often seemed to be off in his own head, which could explain why he was more accident-prone than the average person, even the average blind person. He'd certainly turned up with more scrapes and bruises than anyone else in the orphanage had.

"Maybe we could catch up more later," she suggested, pulling him out of his reverie. "As long as I'm in the city."

"Hm? Sure, sounds great. Can you e-mail me those pictures? I should get back to the office."

"Work for a big law firm?"

"My friend and I have a practice." He gave her his e-mail address and hurried away, red-and-white cane clacking back and forth in front of him as he went.

As he disappeared around a corner, Simmons nudged Skye. She'd valiantly held her tongue but finally was able to say what she'd been thinking the whole time. "How have you never mentioned your gorgeous childhood friend before? The one who seems very intelligent and kind and..."

"And older than me. He was usually seeing someone closer to his age. Sure, I had a crush on him for about a month, but I got over it. After that, he was more like..." She wanted to say like a brother, but it wasn't exactly that. "Well, we were never close, but those of us who were there for a while – the ones who never got adopted – had a kind of... camaraderie. You know, help each other with homework, stand up to bullies, that kind of thing."

Those kids, they knew her. They understood her in a way that even Simmons, her best friend, never could. But then, Simmons had seen a side of her that no one at the orphanage ever had, either. Skye was willing to bet solid money that no one at Saint Agnes had ever seen her as a potential hero. More like a potential inmate.

"Forget that for now. We've got work to do."

Simmons examined the scene helplessly. "Do we have any leads?"

"No leads, but..." Something sparked in her head, and she started to get that grin on her face that Simmons always dreaded. "...I do have an idea."

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"Oh, you will hate it so much."

Simmons accepted this announcement with the resignation of a martyr. "I suppose we'd better get started."


	3. To Catch a Vigilante

Chapter 3: To Catch a Vigilante

"How difficult is it to find crime, anyway?" Skye whined. She and Simmons had spent the last two hours staggering between bars pretending to be tipsy, but no one was giving them a hard time. Most didn't even look twice. "I don't remember Hell's Kitchen being this safe."

"Well _I_ don't remember doing a pub crawl with this little clothing on. I'm freezing and _really_ ready to head back."

"We're not even halfway done with my list." She'd mapped out the seediest route she could find using current crime data and was currently checking it, mostly so she could flash around her expensive new phone between fake giggles. "Come on, somebody, try to mug me. I'm such an easy target." She reapplied her equally-fake smile when a short, dumpy man in a cheap suit approached, looking troubled.

"Hey, are you ladies alright?" he asked.

"Sure, sure," Skye slurred, and Simmons added a little too brightly,

"Never better!"

"I could call you a cab if you need one," the man offered.

"That's really not necessary, but it's sweet of you to offer. Cheerio!"

Skye had never heard Simmons utter the word "cheerio" before, but this was probably another example of her questionable acting abilities. How she'd survived her stint spying on Hydra, Skye had no clue. Why Coulson chose to send her in the first place was an even bigger mystery. He'd spent time undercover with her. He should have known better.

The two of them flounced away, and the man called out, "Or I could walk you home!"

It was nice to know chivalry wasn't dead. Poor guy seemed genuinely concerned about them. "But the night's still young! So much drinking left to do! We love drinking."

"Um, I was just on my way to Josie's. Why don't you join me for a couple drinks, and _then_ I can call you that cab."

They could still be mugged with this guy around, and Josie's was at least a bar, even if it hadn't made their high crime list. Also, they could ditch him when they were done. It did mean they would have to actually drink, but she and Simmons could handle one or two beers. "Great!" she said, stumbling toward him and grabbing his arm to steady herself as she tripped. Simmons latched onto his other arm, and together they made their way to exactly the sort of dive they were looking for. Josie's sported a red neon sign in a dingy window and little else to recommend it, and as the trio approached, they watched a couple of bikers collide as they tried to pass through the door in opposite directions.

The two men tensed and glared reflexively, and Skye hung back with the other two to see what would happen, as did the rest of the biker gang that was just rolling in. However, the bikers in the doorway both forced themselves to take a step back and breathe. Then they rotated their shoulders and started to squeeze past each other under tense scrutiny. This seemed to be resolving itself peacefully, so Skye decided to goad them on. "Come on, you're gonna let him do that to you?"

The men tensed again but forced themselves to finish their trip through the doorway. "Ain't worth it, lady," mumbled the one on the way out. "Not around here."

"Have a good night, Bill," the SHIELD agents' escort said as the man left, getting a quick "See you, Foggy" in return. Foggy (or whatever his name was) tugged the two women inside the bar as quick as he could and dragged them to the back of the room, where they were surprised to see a familiar face.

"Matt!" Skye and Simmons both said together, finding Matt Murdock laughing at a table with a skinny woman, who was fiddling with a long strand of strawberry-blonde hair.

"You guys know each other?" Foggy asked as Matt did a double-take.

He squinted in confusion behind his glasses and said, "Yeah, this is Skye and Jemma, the ones I was telling you about earlier."

"Huh."

Karen's gaze swept their skimpy, shiny outfits. Then she glanced back at Matt before staring at the visitors again. She echoed Foggy's sentiment then said, "Which one of you is, um..."

Skye raised the hand that was in the crook of Foggy's elbow then she released him as she and Simmons worked on "sobering up." "Me. I'm Skye. I'm, uh, here visiting with my friend, and we thought we should have a night on the town. I guess we could join you now. Foggy already invited us. That was your name, right? Foggy?"

Foggy nodded, and Matt supplied the rest of the introductions. "Yeah, this is Foggy Nelson, my partner, and Karen Page, our paralegal."

"We weren't dressed like this at the orphanage," Simmons assured them, blushing, as she took the seat Foggy dragged from a nearby table.

"I would vouch for them..." Matt started, then trailed off with a shrug.

The others smiled a little, and at last Karen tore herself from the pair of strangers and asked, "So, Foggy, is everything okay? Matt _finally_ comes out with us, and you dash off the second he arrives."

"It was because it smells like he came straight from the gym."

It was true that Matt did have a visible sheen of sweat and that it was matting his hair slightly. "That's because I _did_ come straight from the gym. Sorry, the showers were busted. I was headed home when I remembered that appeal."

"Oh, yeah, the appeal." Foggy finally got around to answering Karen's question. "Matt thought I hadn't filed the appeal on the Walker case, and we were supposed to have that in by midnight tonight, so I ran off to get the paperwork, but halfway to the office, I remembered that I submitted it last week, and I just forgot to tell Matt it was done. Everything's fine; I just had one beer too many, I guess." On that note, Skye and Simmons both ordered a couple Pepsis from the irascible older woman who swung by to take their order.

Karen accepted the rambling answer. "Well, we're all here now, and with Matt's friends, too. How do you like being back in New York, Skye?"

"It seems quieter than I remember. Safer." More's the pity. If they wanted to attract a rescuer, they'd clearly need to work harder at it. "Those biker dudes who looked like they wanted to start a fight out front, they backed down pretty fast."

Karen laughed. "Well, this is probably one of the safest bars in Hell's Kitchen, as it took Foggy a while to convince me." Foggy gave a half-bow over the tabletop. "Most of the people who come in here are good, normal people. Plus, it doesn't hurt that Daredevil's seen in this area a lot."

"Thanks, Josie," Foggy said as the older woman plunked two lukewarm beverages in front of .Skye and Simmons.

They thanked her, too, and Simmons asked Karen, "Is that a good thing? A vigilante on the streets punching people?"

She bit her lip and smiled. "Well, he did save my life once, so I'm a little partial."

"Really? What happened?"

"I had some information that could expose some mobsters. They sent a man to kill me, but then _he_ showed up and stopped it. We eventually took down the bad guys in court – me, Matt, and Foggy."

Matt set down his beer with a small _clink_. "We're not going to be talking about crime all night, are we? I get enough of that in my day job."

"Day job?" she teased. "Did you take a night job? You finally noticed the pitiful state of our finances?"

He cleared his throat. "I just meant, can't we talk about something a little more cheerful?"

Karen reached over to pat his arm. "Sure, Matt, we don't have to talk about the man who runs around the city breaking the law."

While Skye resolved to get Karen alone at some point, she let the issue slide for the time being. Instead, she got caught up with Matt as promised, then she, Foggy, and Karen bonded by swapping embarrassing stories about him. Foggy had the most, but Skye was happy to recount the time he decided to sneak out to meet some girl and ended up getting locked out overnight in the middle of the winter. "He was too cold and wet and miserable to even _try_ to sneak in properly the next morning, just dragged himself in looking really sad and guilty and sat there shivering while Sister Theresa scolded him in front of everyone."

Eventually, they all exchanged numbers and broke up. Skye and Simmons returned to their hotel to get a good night's sleep while Karen asked Matt to walk her home and Foggy made himself scarce.

"We're not doing this tomorrow, are we?" Simmons asked.

Skye unzipped her suitcase and examined its contents. Yes, those clothes would do nicely. "No, tomorrow, we're going to talk to Karen and anyone that the newspapers mention as having seen Daredevil. Tomorrow _night_ , we're going to try a new plan."

"Dare I ask?"

One of her standard black outfits should do the trick, combined with a balaclava and her Quake gauntlets. "Tomorrow night, _I'm_ going to be the criminal."


	4. Take 2

Chapter 4: Take 2

After stuffing Simmons into another outfit she hated and donning her own "criminal" costume, Skye was eager to hit the streets, again setting up in the area of Hell's Kitchen under post-Chitauri reconstruction (or "The Incident" as locals called the invasion). They'd talked to people who'd claimed to have seen Daredevil or been saved by him, and even a couple who'd been beaten up by him (both currently laid up in the hospital with broken bones and contusions). Karen, however, had excused herself when they asked her to come out shopping with them, saying she had to work, but maybe another time.

Currently, Skye was pinning up her hair so that she could bury it all under her mask and ignoring Simmons's protests. "I'm starting to wonder about this whole mission," Jemma said.

"I know, I know..." Personally, she was wondering if she should cut her hair so it would get in her way less.

"No, you don't know what I'm going to say. I was just thinking about the man thrown off the roof at St. Agnes. And those two men we met in the hospital."

"The bank robber and the breaking and entering guy?"

"Yes, them. How the second man said Daredevil just kept hitting him, even after he was down. I don't think that's the sort of person you want on your team."

Everyone had a rough edge or two to scrape off, especially the people Coulson had a habit of recruiting, so Skye wasn't too worried, as long as the guy could tell friend from foe. But that argument wouldn't fly with Simmons. "He could've been lying, and we need to know either way. This isn't just about recruiting for my Secret Warriors. It's about knowing what powered people are doing and stopping them if we have to. You ready?"

The mask slipped easily over her head, and she pulled out a knife, with which she planned to threaten her friend. Simmons nodded and then started screaming at the top of her lungs. "Heeeelp!" she screeched. "Help me! Please! Someone!"

"Shut up and give me your money!" Skye demanded, waving the knife around.

"Not likely. Try to take it!" Simmons ran off, still screaming, with Skye in hot pursuit. They stopped twice so Simmons could catch her breath, and they had to dodge three people who said they were calling 911, but eventually, in one decently lit alleyway, Skye felt a metal rod strike her hand, knocking out the knife. Another rod shattered the lamp directly above her, extinguishing the main source of light.

"Yes!" she hissed under her breath as a figure dropped down from the rooftop, planting himself between her and Simmons. Daredevil.

Even in the partial light, she could see a toothy grin stretch across his face. "I wouldn't do that if I were..." Then his grin faltered, and he did a 90-degree pivot, wheeling around and stepping back so he could see both Skye and Simmons. "You're not in any danger, are you?" his voice rasped softly.

"Not anymore, not since you..."

"Save it," he growled, retrieving his weapons. "And don't cry wolf again."

Skye pulled her mask off and held up her hands in a placating way. "Sorry, but we really do need your help, just not with this. We just want to talk."

"I don't." He punctuated the words by holstering his two rods, and then he made for the lowest rung of a fire escape overhead, using a dumpster as a jump-off point.

While she didn't really want to make an enemy of this guy, she couldn't let him get away, either. What if he really was an out of control criminal? "Sorry about this," she muttered, raising her hands and letting loose a seismic blast that knocked him off the ladder and took off a good chunk of the ladder with him.

Well, she was still getting the hang of her powers. She winced when he smacked his face against the dumpster and drew a sharp breath in through his teeth. Simmons took cover in a doorframe. "Look," Skye tried again, "I just..."

Ignoring the fresh cut on his right cheekbone, he leapt to his feet and charged her, doing a front flip over her head as she raised her hands again and gave a quick burst. Her vibrations shot uselessly beneath him, and a boot hit the small of her back before he'd even touched down, sending Skye flying onto her stomach. She managed to throw up her hands in time so that she didn't hit her own head, but just barely.

Skye rolled over and jumped to her feet as Daredevil sprinted down the alley, hooking his two rods together. Then he grasped one and flicked upwards, sending the top one flying up with some kind of cable attached. The rod wrapped around a railing, and Daredevil used the cable to swing up. From there it was a short jaunt out of sight. Skye tried one more quake in his direction, but he dodged easily before disappearing. "I'm on your side!" she called out. True or not, it was a wasted effort.

Shaking slightly, Simmons emerged from her doorframe and started digging in her purse. "At least we might have gotten something out of it."

"Did we?" May was going to be so ashamed of her. _Maybe_ the guy had superpowers, but even so, that was hardly an excuse as far as Melinda May was concerned.

"Sure." Simmons whipped out a flashlight and small sample kit and then crouched down by the dumpster. She switched on the light and said, "There we go," before swabbing at the small patch of fresh blood that stained the corner. "At least we'll be able to tell if he's Inhuman."

"I would've preferred to ask him if he took fish oil pills or if he'd ever woken up in a weird cocoon."

"Personally, I find blood tests to be a more reliable source of data."

They left the scene of the crime before the cops could show up, and Skye thought back to the fight. "When Daredevil shattered the light just now, there was glass. The lights at Saint Agnes were intact. Either the ninjas shut off the power so they could sneak in or he knew in advance they'd be coming, and he did it." She shrugged. "I'm not sure it matters. I just want to know what was going on there."

"Don't we all?"

They returned to the hotel again, but this time hopefully one step closer to cracking their case, and Simmons got to work, analyzing the blood with her portable equipment. After she determined that his DNA wasn't on file, she started to examine his genetic structure. "This'll take a few hours with what I have here, plus the five minutes it'll take me to change."

"I'll get takeout."

Roles established, they settled in for the rest of the night, both anxiously awaiting the results. "Will you look at that?" Simmons muttered at her microscope. Since she'd been making noises and murmuring all night, Skye had stopped asking if anything was significant. Simmons only shushed her anyway. This time, though, Simmons was ready to speak. "He's not an Inhuman, Skye, he's a mutate."

"Do you mean a mutant? Like the ones in the news?"

"No, someone who has the mutant gene develops their powers naturally, usually with puberty or another stressful life event. Not to be confused with Inhumans, as you all were given a _different_ gene by the Kree, one which is activated by terrigenesis. A mutate is a third category entirely. They, well, mutate after being exposed to some other agent like radioactive materials. Usually, they're genetically predisposed in some way, which is how they survive at all. Think Bruce Banner."

"Gotcha. The Hulk is a mutate. So is this guy. So we're looking for someone who's recently been exposed to radiation?"

"It might not even be radiation. For all we know, he could have accidentally bumped into some Chitauri artifact during the Battle of New York. That seems far more likely, given that Daredevil started showing up shortly after that."

"Well, that really narrows it down." She covered her face in her hands. _Think, Skye_. Then an idea struck her, and she pulled her hands away. "If he started mutating, he probably went to the hospital, right? I just need to hack into records from around the city after the battle. I know it was kind of crazy, but I'm sure they still kept track of whoever came through their doors, at least as much as they could."

Simmons didn't seem convinced. "It's worth a shot, although I imagine there are a lot of records to sort through."

Skye was hopping onto her computer before Simmons even finished her sentence. "We can refine our search. We're looking for a Caucasian male, late 20s to early 40s, a little under 6 feet tall, probably lives in Hell's Kitchen. If we're lucky, SHIELD already flagged something as suspicious. No, they didn't. Still, we can probably ignore anyone who came in just for scrapes or burns or broken bones, which was probably most of the people."

"Leave the burns. We don't know what contact with an alien artifact could have done to him."

Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she input her search request. "Done. We have 17 results." She started flipping through available photos, covering up the top half of the face and eliminating anyone whose chin was definitely the wrong shape or size. "8 results. He had stubble on his chin. I couldn't tell what color it was, but I'm at least sure it wasn't light blonde. That's two more down and six left. We could visit all of them tomorrow and see if any of them are bleeding."

"Perfect." Simmons snuggled into her bed and switched off the lamp. "Good night, Skye."

Skye settled back for a very uneasy sleep, broken once when she thought she heard something outside. When she hurried to the window, she found nothing there. She still scanned the area uneasily, especially the tops of any roofs she could see. That was how Daredevil liked to travel, wasn't it? But she suspected it wasn't him. If Daredevil was out there, she had a feeling she wouldn't hear him coming.


	5. Witnesses

Chapter 5: Witnesses

"New Yorkers certainly possess a colorful vocabulary, don't they?" Simmons noted as she and Skye beat a hasty retreat from the Internet café. Their sixth Daredevil suspect worked there and was perfectly happy to tell them what he thought of the vigilante, as was everyone else in there. The general feeling was mostly positive, except for one woman disturbed by his costume, a man whose brother had been crippled by Daredevil, and another man who thought that vigilantes heralded the destruction of civilization.

"What did you expect? Vigilantes are controversial."

Simmons shivered and tightened her jacket around her shoulders. "So, what do we do now?"

To be honest, Skye wasn't sure. SHIELD resources had let them find all six possible Daredevils pretty quickly, and it didn't take much in-depth surveillance to tell that they weren't injured. They had some quick conversations just in case, but none of them acted like they had anything to hide. "We come up with a new plan. I guess we can start by trying to find a pattern in his movements. If we look through all the incident reports involving him..."

"Do you maybe want to think about bringing in backup?" Simmons suggested. "I know we were originally hoping to bring him in quietly, but he clearly doesn't want to talk to us, and if we have to fight him again, I'd feel better with another agent or two around."

"I can handle him. He just caught me by surprise last night."

"I think it was mutual."

"Still..."

"You know you don't have to prove anything, don't you?"

Skye stopped in the street and drew back a step from Simmons as her friend stopped, too. "What?"

"Coulson just told you you're ready for your own team, and I wouldn't blame you for wanting to prove to him that his faith in you isn't misplaced. Or prove it to yourself. But you should know that there's no pressure here, because you _have_ already proven yourself. That's why he's giving you this responsibility in the first place." Skye didn't respond, so Simmons pressed on. "If you ask for backup, he won't think any less of you. If anything, he'll be impressed that you can make a mature tactical decision without thinking of your own ego."

"Wow." There really wasn't much to say to a speech like that, and Simmons took Skye's stunned reaction the wrong way.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

"Harsh? Jemma, I'm just starting to wonder when it was that we both grew up, and that you became so wise."

Simmons blushed, twin spots of red highlighting her pale cheeks. "That's, um, that's very nice of you to say..." she stuttered before Skye added,

"But you still don't know how to take a compliment. Okay, Simmons, I'll try one more time to talk to this guy. If I can't handle it, I call for help. Though I don't know who Coulson would send," she added with a frown. "Bobbi's down for the count, and May's probably gone by now."

That earned her a slight snort. "You know there are more field agents than just the three of you, right?"

"What, you mean all the nameless background people?"

"They have names, Skye, even if they aren't..."

"Kidding!" Skye laughed. "I'm kidding." She was only partly kidding. Certainly the three of them were the _best_ agents available, but she couldn't say that after Simmons had just pointed out her ego. "Okay, let's head back to the hotel and..."

Her phone rang, cutting off what she was going to say, and when she answered it, she was pleasantly surprised to hear Karen ask about that shopping date. "If you're not busy," Karen added hastily. "I just happened to get off work early, so I thought I'd ask."

"Sure. Did the boys want to come?" she asked, hoping that they wouldn't. That was why she suggested shopping in the first place.

"No, Foggy just met with the last of our appointments, and Matt's been at St. Agnes all day. (I strongly suspect he's using work time to socialize.) So Foggy told me I should go ahead and clock out."

Finally, something good. "I told you, I'm here on vacation. We'll grab a cab and pick you up at your office. Unless you have somewhere you want to hit near you."

"Actually, there's not much in the way of shopping near me, and I'm pretty new to the city myself."

"That's fine. Jemma can plan our trip. She likes planning things."

Simmons leaned close to the phone to correct, "I _love_ planning things." It was even true for the real agent, not just her undercover persona.

"Great! Um..." Karen hesitated and added with a hint of embarrassment, "Nothing _too_ pricy. I do work for a couple of pro bono lawyers. Though I think I owe myself a nice dress or two after everything I've been through this year."

"Nice but not too pricey. Got it. See you soon." By the time she hung up, Simmons was already looking into their options.

"Do you think this would be covered by our mission budget?"

Skye looked at her in mock surprise. "What, does SHIELD have money now?"

"We must be getting money from _somewhere_ if Coulson was refitting a helicarrier (and, honestly, I'm still surprised he didn't tell us about that), and now that that's finished..."

That seemed like solid logic. "One or two things wouldn't hurt," she agreed, leading Simmons to let a little squeak of delight slip out.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've done something normal like shopping? While not working at Hydra, I mean."

Skye had to admit she was looking forward to it, too, and Karen expressed almost the exact same sentiment when they picked her up. "You don't know how much I needed this, but I definitely owe myself a day out after the year I've had. A normal day. And the dresses."

It was about 2:00, so Simmons offered, "If you don't mind, I was thinking we could stop for dinner in the middle of our shopping excursion. Our treat."

For a moment, Skye thought pride would prevent Karen from accepting, but she settled back into the cab and said, "That would be great. Thank you."

"What kind of a year did you have?" Skye asked, and after Karen glanced at the cab driver and bit her lower lip, she backtracked a little. "Maybe I'll ask that when we get there." She mentally berated herself for trying to start her interrogation in this setting.

Luckily, nothing was ruined by the effort, and when the three women disembarked at store #1, Karen said haltingly, "When I first got here, I was a secretary at Union Allied Construction – a company that turned out to be dirty. After I found out and tried to tell people, they framed me for murder. That's how I met Matt and Foggy." Here she softened into a fond smile. "They cleared me of all charges and helped take down Union Allied. But it was a rough journey, and some people... We lost some people along the way. My life was threatened a few times in there, too. Foggy saved me once. The other time... well, I mentioned meeting Daredevil."

They'd made it into the shop and were perusing the blouses closest to the door as they spoke, mainly because they were all concentrating too much on the conversation to actually see what else was around. "Yeah, what happened with that?" Skye asked.

"I was in my apartment to retrieve some information I'd hidden there, and a man with a knife came in to kill me. Then a man in a black mask showed up out of nowhere. It was amazing, watching him fight. And to know that he was doing it for me. Some of the hits he took looked like they had to hurt, but he just kept going. That's the sort of person he is."

Almost afraid to interrupt her awed reverie, Skye asked, "How do you know? How do you know he didn't just have his own agenda?"

"Because I've heard the same story over and over from other people he's saved. A lot of them become our clients – getting restraining orders against violent exes, that sort of thing."

Skye nodded out of habit and then clarified, "Wait, you said a lot of them come to you? Why is that?"

"Because Matt and Foggy are the best. It may sound prejudiced, but it's true. They had great careers lined up at a big firm, but they decided they'd rather be helping people so that's what they're doing. What we're doing." She shrugged. "Plus, they work for free. Well, when we're lucky, our clients bring us pies and bananas. And now that we're making a name for ourselves, we've gotten some actual paying customers, which makes Foggy happy."

They progressed a little farther and reached some dresses when none of the barely-glanced-at blouses caught their eye. "And Matt..."

That question brought Karen up short for a second, but she finally responded, "I don't mean that Foggy is greedy or anything. Matt just likes to live simply...ish, and I get the feeling the money's not as much a sacrifice for him as it is for me and Foggy."

"Huh."

"I think I'm going to try this on," she said, holding up a blue silk dress. It looked well out of pie-and-banana price range, but Skye had a feeling she needed a break from the very personal conversation.

"Sure. We'll be here." After Karen was gone, Skye crossed her arms and said, "As happy as I am to hear about Matt again, this conversation is getting off topic."

Simmons laughed at her friend. "That happens sometimes, Skye. You're undercover here. You have to make friends. You know that."

She was right as usual, and Skye shook away her impatience as Karen emerged from the changing room to model for them. "Ta da!"

"You look incredible!" Simmons assured her.

Karen lowered her voice and confided, "I'm not buying this dress. I just wanted to see how I'd look in it."

"Well, blue is definitely your color. It goes well with your eyes."

"Oh, right." She looked troubled for a second before returning to change into her own work clothes. They all continued shopping and intermittently trying on different pieces. Skye and Simmons elaborated on their backstories so it didn't seem like Karen was doing all the talking. They also talked her out of buying a truly garish dress as politely as they could when they got to store #3.

"I really don't know about that pattern," Simmons ventured.

Always less tactful, but in her own humble opinion more helpful, Skye put in, "It's terrible. Don't get it."

Karen did return it to the rack but said a little defensively, "Okay, the color is a little strong, but it's in my price range, and the material is really soft."

"This is only our third store. I'm sure we can find better after dinner."

"You're right. And if we don't, we can always come back."

"Sure, but that little black number from the last store was cheaper, and you looked way hotter in... Oh, I'm an idiot. Sorry. You're dating Matt, aren't you?"

With that, Karen skittered away from the dress rack and said, "What? No. I just... I..." She must have known her red face gave her away because she dropped the denials almost immediately. "He's a really great guy, you know. He may have a few faults, but I... Well, if he ever got around to asking me out I certainly wouldn't say no."

"So ask him." When Karen shook her head, Skye asked, "Why not? Have you ever asked out a guy before?"

"Of course, but this is different. And not just because I work for him. Or because it might leave Foggy feeling like a third wheel. It's different because, well, when Matt Murdock wants something, he doesn't waste time going after it. I'm sure he's noticed... whatever this is between us and is trying to decide what he wants to do about it. If I try to rush him into making up his mind, I'll only scare him off."

"Then you can just ignore Skye," Simmons said with a smile. "She doesn't believe in waiting. Don't worry, we won't say anything to Matt, and we _will_ help you find a dress that will feel nice if you happen to accidentally brush up against him. What other sorts of things does he like?" Simmons loved matchmaking almost as much as she loved planning things.

"It's hard to say. I haven't known him long, and he's a private person. He likes Foggy and me, his job, his church, and his city, but I haven't gotten many hints besides that. I've been to his apartment once, and there weren't many clues there."

"Right. You said he lives 'simply-ish.'"

"Yep. There are a couple pieces of art on his walls that are obviously just for visitors and not a reflection of his own personal tastes. The rest is pretty Spartan except for the organic food and the silk sheets. It wasn't a romantic visit," she added hastily, in answer to their arched eyebrows. "It was when I was accused of murder and my life was in danger. Matt, despite having no reason to trust me, offered to let me stay with him. He was a perfect gentleman the whole time, and he insisted I take the bed while he slept on the couch. Actually, I was the untrustworthy one there, since I was soon leaving to get that information that I'd told him I didn't have."

Not too eagerly (she hoped), Skye jumped back into the conversation. "When Daredevil saved you from the knife-wielding hit man? I guess he doesn't sound so bad."

"He isn't. If you ever meet him, you'll know." _We're trying to_ , Skye thought as Karen continued, "Even Foggy came around after calling him a terrorist." Then she frowned. "Hm. I hadn't thought of that before."

"Thought of what?"

"Probably nothing, it's just that you asked before why so many of the people Daredevil saves come to us. I hadn't really considered it before, but I wonder if he might be purposefully steering business our way. He did pass some information to Matt and Foggy one time about one of our cases. Maybe he knows that they're good people, too."

"Wait, they met him?" That wasn't what Matt had said at St. Agnes. In fact, he'd said the exact opposite. Rather than calling Matt a liar, though, Skye hedged, "They, um, didn't mention that at the bar when we were talking about him." And right there it was definitely time to change the subject. "I guess it doesn't matter. Who's hungry?"

Simmons and Karen both agreed that it was time to eat, but Skye and Simmons exchanged a look behind Karen's back as they exited the store. It sounded like they had two more witnesses.


	6. Lies

Chapter 6: Lies

As tempted as Skye was to go straight to St. Agnes to demand answers from Matt Murdock, better judgment prevailed. And the realization that he'd probably left by that point. Unfortunately, that just left her and Simmons to speculate on why Matt lied and how soon they could call to ask to hang out with him and Foggy so that it didn't seem weird or suspicious.

"Of _course_ a lawyer wouldn't want to admit to getting information from a vigilante," Simmons pointed out as the two of them sprawled out in their hotel rooms admiring their purchases of the day. "It would probably throw some doubt on the evidence and put his cases in jeopardy."

"I guess," Skye admitted, pouting a little and sipping on a root beer. "It's just that we're friends. Or we were; we just went our separate ways. Actually, now that I think about it, I didn't know him that well to begin with. I'm just tired of people lying to me, no matter how well I know them or don't know them."

Simmons reached across the gap to Skye's bed and patted her hand. "Then I think you're in the wrong business, Skye."

After snorting out a quick laugh, Skye decided, "We should try to get Foggy alone next. Clearly Karen didn't realize she shouldn't mention their meeting with Daredevil. Maybe Foggy won't think of it either."

"Josie's!" Simmons exclaimed. "It seemed like Foggy and Karen spend a lot of time there, and they said that Matt doesn't come out with them much. Would it be odd if we just showed up?"

"Maybe." Skye scratched at her nose and then called Karen up. "Hey, Karen, I know we all just parted ways, but Simmons and I were talking about grabbing a drink... not as much as we had last night... but we wondered if you guys wanted to meet up at Josie's."

Karen chuckled. "Foggy and I were just headed out." (Skye pumped her fist in triumph, and Simmons silently applauded.) "The two of us can meet you there, though Matt said he can't come. He's at confession now, and he always has really long talks with his priest."

"I guess that figures."

Puzzled, Karen asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, not about his confession being long. It's just that... I don't really know what he's like now, but back when I knew him, he was always _doing_ something, you know. Studying or helping someone with their homework or even sneaking out or whatever. He didn't usually just chill."

"Ah," Karen said. "No, he's still like that. But if you don't mind just the two of us..."

"Be there in a flash!" She hung up and she and Simmons dug around for clothing more appropriate to a dive bar – jeans, t-shirts, and jackets. Skye did accessorize more than her more conservative compatriot, as she traditionally did. Then, after checking their makeup, they made their way to a pool match already in progress. "Who's winning?" Skye asked.

With a deep, martyred sigh that held absolutely no malice, Foggy rolled his eyes upward and declared, "Karen. It's always Karen." It would have seemed normal, except that he was tense and kept glancing surreptitiously at the two newcomers as Karen circled around to work out an angle for her next shot.

This continued for the rest of the evening, during the drinking and the pool. He was definitely uneasy about something. Something regarding Skye and Simmons. His attempts at good-natured conversation came off as stilted, especially in contrast to their previous outing, and he seemed happiest to let the women talk. Occasionally he would ask questions about their shopping trip to keep them going, but mostly he stayed as silent as possible.

Loosening him up with a few drinks seemed the best way to go, but he stayed remarkably sober. He also stayed close to Karen, even when she went to buy another round for the table. "Someone clearly doesn't want to be left alone with us," Skye hissed, and Simmons nodded in agreement, the waves of her short brown hair bobbing slightly.

Even Karen noticed something amiss, eventually asking, "Hey, Foggy, are you okay? You seem a little distracted."

"Do I?"

"And you're really nursing that beer."

"Am I?" He pasted a forced smile across his round, otherwise friendly face. Seeing it wasn't convincing anyone, he dropped the act. "It's just..." Here, he turned to Skye and Simmons. "Are you two reporters or cops or something?"

"Certainly not!" Simmons exclaimed with as much indignation as she could muster. She and Skye noted that Karen didn't look particularly surprised by the question, but Simmons asked innocently, "Why ever would you think that?"

"You've been asking us a lot of questions about Daredevil," Foggy pointed out, "after visiting St. Agnes to learn more about him."

"I think he's pretty neat," Skye said. "We didn't have anything like that when I was growing up here. If you don't want to talk about him, that's fine. We don't have to."

"Skye likes superheroes," Simmons agreed. "You should see the pictures from when she was cosplaying in front of Stark Tower."

"Not now, Jemma."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, forget it," Foggy said, throwing up his hands. "I think I'm about ready to call it a night anyway. Karen?" She nodded thoughtfully and told the other pair,

"We don't mind if you are, you know. We've known some really great journalists and some good policemen. We'd just rather know up front." When this was met with denials, Karen smiled sadly and said, "Foggy's right. It's been a long day. I think I'll turn in, too."

When the group split up, Simmons groaned, "I can't believe they're calling _us_ out on lying, when that's what _we're_ trying to do."

They climbed into a cab and drove away from where Foggy and Karen were trudging down the sidewalk, slightly hunched. Then, as soon as they were out of sight, Skye had the cab driver do a loop around the block. "We're going to follow them," she told Simmons, at which the cab driver informed them,

"Chases cost extra."

"Sorry, I wasn't talking to you. You can let us off here. _We_ ," she tried again, gesturing to Simmons, "are going to follow them on foot."

After they paid the jaded New York cabbie and got out of his car, Simmons groaned, "These cab bills are really racking up. Maybe we should ask SHIELD for a car."

"Yeah. Hey, did I tell you Coulson let me drive Lola?"

"Yes, Skye, about fifty times or so, but I don't think he's going to let us take her out of his sight."

"I know. I just thought I'd mention it."

"Ugh."

They both had to fall silent then, because they caught up to Foggy and Karen, who were speculating on Skye and Simmons's intentions. "I don't think they seem like _bad_ people," Karen was concluding as the SHIELD agents stuck to the shadows behind them, "but I agree that they seem to have an agenda of some kind. I think I'll do some digging tomorrow."

"Sounds good. 'night, Karen."

She padded up the steps to her apartment, and Foggy continued alone down the sidewalk. Skye wasn't worried about what Karen would find; before the mission, she'd laid down a flawless online presence for both her and Simmons. What worried her more was when Foggy answered his ringing phone with a few under-his-breath insults and snapped into the receiver, "What, are you psychic now, too? I was just about to call you. To yell at you. If you couldn't tell."

The rest of the half-conversation continued with some short pauses while Foggy let the other person speak. "Yes, of _course_ they were asking about you. Why would anyone bother talking about anyone _but_ you? No, this _is_ me calm. Or as calm as I can get while being interrogated by two SHIELD agents." Here, Skye and Simmons simultaneously felt their breath hitch, but Foggy plodded on, oblivious. "Remember what I keep saying about you getting me into trouble? This is that trouble I was talking about. Hey, don't you dare..." He stopped talking and then finished with a sigh, "...hang up."

He slipped the phone into his jacket and trudged on in silence, eventually making it to his own apartment and slamming the door shut behind him. "So, he clearly knows Daredevil," Simmons observed after a long, awkward pause. "And he knows that we're SHIELD agents."

Skye sank onto the curb, and Simmons joined her. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening. I can't believe my cover was blown so quickly. On my first real mission away from the nest. Why? How? We didn't even tell Daredevil we were SHIELD when we met him, though maybe we should have."

With some hesitation, Simmons suggested, "A lot of the people around here claim that Daredevil just _knows_ things, like when people are in trouble. That he'll come when they ask him for help. I know we've all dismissed the notion of real clairvoyants before, but after Raina..."

"He's not clairvoyant," Skye countered, running her hands over her face, "at least Foggy didn't seem to think he really was, since he only said that psychic thing sarcastically. We got sloppy somewhere, I just don't know where yet. Maybe he followed us back to the hotel after we fought."

"Nothing seemed amiss, and it's not like we brought our badges with us, or any of the numerous products emblazoned with the logo."

"Yeah, what is _up_ with that? I mean, we were a secret agency. We just shouldn't."

Simmons shrugged. "I've never understood it, myself, but Coulson... Well, he has a different way of looking at SHIELD, doesn't he? An unhealthy obsession, some would say. I think Fury was the same, in his own way."

"Sorry. That's off track. The mission. So, Foggy knows Daredevil, but that conversation he had with Karen didn't mention SHIELD at all, so she probably doesn't know."

"What about your friend? Do you think he does?"

"He's not my friend," Skye countered, a little more savagely than she intended. "Forget it. Let's go talk to Foggy."

"But..."

"The jig's up. He clearly knows who we are, so we have nothing to lose. Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm sick of the lies."


	7. Up on the Roof

Chapter 7: Up on the Roof

When Skye had one of her first real leadership dilemmas, she found it hard to make a decision. Basically, she wanted one of the two of them to knock on Foggy Nelson's front door and one of them to cover the fire escape in case he decided to run for it. However, she didn't want Simmons to be the one confronting him, and she wasn't sure if he would try to run for it or not. In other words, she wanted to be in both places herself and didn't want Simmons in danger, even though she was 98% positive Agent Jemma Simmons could handle herself against a flabby lawyer.

"Cover the rear exit," she finally said, deciding that if Nelson took too long letting her in, she could always break down the door before he got too far.

Simmons pulled her icer out of her purse in reply. (She and Fitz did love those things.) Then she calmly took her position and waited for Skye to break into the building and trot up to Foggy's front door. Skye knocked on the faded wood and immediately heard a scurrying that sounded nothing like a man answering the door.

That was enough for her, and she raised one hand to quake the door in. It splintered as it flew back, and Foggy ducked behind a couch. Then he emerged brandishing a baseball bat. "Look, lady," he said, "I don't know if you're really Matt's old friend or if you're just impersonating her, but if you come any closer, you'll regret it."

This time, she gave a gentle nudge through the air that was still enough to knock Foggy back and send the bat flying from his hand. "Will I, now?" she drawled while texting Simmons on her phone to let her know she could come up. "Look, we were trying to ask nicely, but we really do need to talk to Daredevil."

"'We' being..." He clearly needed to hear her say it, so she supplied,

"SHIELD. The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"That name is a bit misleading," Foggy pointed out. "You're not really a 'division' of anything in the U.S. government anymore. You're vigilantes. Like Daredevil. So is this some kind of turf war that you're all getting me involved in?"

Deciding honesty was the best policy, she replied, "We're not sure what to make of him. He could be a force for good or evil at this point, and we need to know which he is."

"And what happens if you decide you don't like the cut of his jib?"

"Why? Don't you trust him? Don't you think he's one of the good guys?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure you are."

Simmons arrived then, and Skye moved closer to Foggy, holding out her hand. "Give me your cell phone," she instructed, and when Foggy twitched, she added, "And don't even think about trying to smash it, because you know I can stop you."

He did reluctantly pass it over, and Skye found the last number that dialed in. Since she didn't have her equipment with her, she called in to SHIELD to have them run the number for her.

"It's a burner," the technician told her, "purchased from a shop in Hell's Kitchen. It looks like a really shady store. No security cameras.

"Thanks," she said, for all the good that information did her. She could head over there later to ask about credit card receipts, but she had a feeling whoever bought the phone wouldn't have been that stupid.

"Please, won't you think about helping us?" Jemma was asking Foggy in the meantime. "We might be able to work with him whenever he find enhanced villains running amok through the city. I promise that unless we see evidence of him actually doing evil here, we won't harm him or arrest him."

Ever the lawyer, Foggy said, "By 'arrest,' you mean 'kidnap.' Like you're doing to me right now."

"We don't intend to hurt you, either. We just need to find Daredevil and ask him a few questions."

"Over my dead body," he responded without hesitation, and Skye really believed that he meant it. People around Hell's Kitchen certainly had strong feelings about their symbol, but this felt like something more. Foggy knew the man and didn't want to see him hurt. Skye wondered if the feeling was mutual.

She paced the room as she thought, her boots scraping over the wooden splinters of the door. At last, she said, "People around here say Daredevil knows when people are in trouble, right? And that he usually comes when he's called?"

"Hearsay," Foggy retorted. "How am I supposed to know what people are gossiping about?"

"Well, I _have_ heard the gossip, and I'm going to put it to the test. Daredevil!" she called out. She wasn't exactly belting it out at the top of her lungs, but she was pretty sure she could be heard in the next apartment or two. (The walls were thin.) "We have Foggy Nelson here! We're taking him in for questioning unless you come talk to us!"

Then, in her normal voice, she said to Simmons, "Assuming that doesn't..." But Foggy's ringing phone cut off her words. When she saw the burner number, she answered eagerly, somewhat regretting that she hadn't thought he would respond this way and so hadn't set up a trace. She thought he'd just appear at the window.

"Talk," a deep voice growled from the other end of the line.

Skye glanced meaningfully at Simmons, indicating that this was their target. Simmons moved to cover Foggy with her icer so he couldn't make a run for it while Skye was on the phone. "My name is Agent Skye, and I'm with SHIELD, as you know or suspected. We hoped we might pool our resources with you and..."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not interested in team-ups."

"SHIELD could offer a lot of benefits..."

"I said 'no.'"

"...like medical care. Police reports seem to indicate that you get injured a lot, _seriously_ injured."

After a slight pause, the vigilante asked, "Is that all you wanted?"

SHIELD's Welcome Wagon was wobbling at the moment. This process, which Coulson had finally allowed her to rename from the much colder "Index Asset Evaluation and Intake" was supposed to be a strength of hers. This could _not_ be where she failed. "I also wanted to talk to you about yourself, if that's okay." She tried softening her tone, getting back to her friendlier roots.

"It's not."

"Would you at least tell me what you're trying to accomplish here?"

The answer was prompt and probably oft-recited. "I'm trying to make my city a better place."

"Work with us, and you could make the _world_ a better place."

That met with another silence from the phone line, but in the room, Foggy groaned a little. Then the reply came, a little reluctantly, from Daredevil. "I like to keep my goals realistic. Besides, there are plenty of people saving the world, and in the process, a lot of smaller problems slip through the cracks – problems that are just as life-changing to some people."

"I promise we don't forget about individual people, but wouldn't you rather try to do the most good for the most people?"

"In general, yes, I subscribe to utilitarianism, but like I said, other people are already on that. We all have our roles to play, and that's not mine."

"Look, if that's the way you want it, I get it, but could you at least think it over? I'll give you a contact number in case you change your mind." She rattled it off before he could refuse, but privately she doubted that this guy would be a good fit anyway. SHIELD tended to recruit the young, the lonely, and the impressionable, not those who already had a purpose, and this guy seemed pretty sure of himself.

But there was still that other matter to address. "In the meantime," Skye continued, keeping her voice level and non-confrontational, "while you seem to be doing a lot of good here, I'd like to ask you about your methods. I've noticed that a lot of the people you fight end up in pretty bad shape."

"And _I've_ noticed that your friend is holding a man at gunpoint right now, despite the fact that he hasn't been accused of anything other than associating with me. You want to talk about methods? At least I don't kill people."

As reluctant as she was to give away tactical information, Skye didn't want to look like the bad guy, either, so she admitted, "It's not a real gun. It only stuns people."

"Really?" That piqued his interest, and his voice sounded less harsh for a second. Then it reverted as he backtracked to retain his moral high ground. "Are you telling me you don't kill people at all? Or that you organization doesn't?"

"Sometimes, but only really bad people when we have no other choice."

"Which bad people? And what gives you the right to decide?"

"Well, what gives you the right to beat people up?"

She could almost hear a shrug through the phone as he replied, "Nothing. None of us have the legal right to do any of this. We're both trying to save lives, to achieve the greater good, and that means stopping bad people from doing bad things. The difference is, I care about those people, too. If they get hurt or go to jail, they still have a chance to rethink their lives and to try to do better. You're just writing them off."

The conversation was getting away from her. This guy didn't understand what was at stake, but bickering wouldn't solve anything. Then again, nothing she said seemed to be helping. She took a deep breath and said, "Maybe you're right. Why don't we talk about this face to face?"

"Both of you leave Mr. Nelson's apartment. Then you promise that you and your agency will leave him and his friends alone."

"That's tough to promise, don't you think?"

"The only reason you're bothering them in the first place is to get to me."

"We'll try to stay away from them."

"And you'll replace his door."

Skye nodded. "And we'll replace his door."

There was a short huff, which Skye translated as agreement when Daredevil said, "Meet me on the roof."

The line went dead, and Skye raised her eyebrows. "We're meeting him on the roof. At least I am. But we're _both_ ," she added, turning to Foggy, "leaving you alone."

Simmons gladly tucked away her weapon. "Oh, good. Awfully sorry for the inconvenience."

He stood shakily, brushing splinters from his pants with as much dignity as he could muster. Trying to appear unfazed, he said, "Inconvenience? Why would being assaulted in my home be inconvenient?"

"Sorry," Simmons repeated as they left, for lack of anything better to say. "Are you sure you want to do this alone, Skye?"

"I think it'd be best." She didn't want to go into details when the other guy could be listening (either through powers or through a bug), but she wanted to make Daredevil as comfortable as possible, and he clearly shunned human interaction.

Leaving Jemma to hopefully fend for herself, Skye picked her way to the roof, which was flat like many of the roofs around here. Most of it was wide open, the space broken up by some pipes and the stairwell access point that she emerged from. Sparse potted plants bordered the roof, running along the half-wall that kept people from falling off.

There was no sign of Daredevil when she first emerged, so she circled around until she found him perched on that wall. He crouched, unmoving, like a gargoyle, the half-moon behind him. In fact, he probably chose that spot to avoid having moonlight shine on his face. As it was, he was mostly in shadows with a bit of white around his mouth. The silhouette was clear, horns and all.

Somehow, Skye got the impression that this wasn't _entirely_ for her benefit, only partially. He had the vibe of someone who regularly posed on rooftops to brood or wait for crime to happen around him or whatever guys like this did in their spare time.

"That's far enough," Daredevil instructed as Skye drew closer.

Not wanting to spook him into jumping, Skye stopped in her tracks. "It's okay. I just want to talk – powered person to powered person."

"What makes you think I have powers?"

Either he was scared to come out as a powered person or he was just baiting her. It was hard to tell. Skye decided to go along with it for now. "You knew what was going on in Foggy's apartment."

"You, the spy, are telling me that there's no other way to know what's happening in a room?"

"What about the way you were hopping around when we fought?"

A sly grin stretched across his face, which she was beginning to see a little better as her eyes adjusted to the night. She could even faintly spot the red line across his cheekbone from where he fell against the dumpster. "Only powered people can move like that or fight like that? It sounds like you're selling normal people pretty short... overlooking them because they can't do everything you can do."

"'Normal people'?" she snapped. "Who are you to say what's normal?"

Daredevil tilted his head slightly – the first sign of movement from him apart from his mouth. "Statistically speaking, it is the norm for people to not possess any superpowers – ie, normal."

"Wait," she said, softening a little, "do _you_ think you're not normal? You know, it's okay to have powers. There's nothing wrong with you the way you are."

"I suddenly feel like I'm watching the Disney channel."

That humor could have been a defensive mechanism. It was hard to tell. "I'm being serious. I'm sure you've heard all kinds of bad things about people with powers, and that plus your changing body can be a lot to deal with. It was hard for me, trying to get my powers under control while listening to people call me abnormal and a lot of worse things. So if you need someone to talk to..."

"Then I should spill my heart out to you because you have all the answers now."

"That's not what I..."

"It may surprise you to know, Agent Skye, but plenty of people can solve their own problems without SHIELD. Personally, I already have people I can talk to about my own – whether or not they have anything to do with superpowers. I don't need you for anything. You don't have anything to offer me outside of a health care package."

Clearly, she wasn't making any headway. With any luck, he'd consider her proposal, but she wouldn't hold her breath. "Okay, you win. We'll leave you alone. And Foggy, Matt, and Karen. But, seriously, if you ever want to work with other people, or even if you want to talk about your powers... or philosophy... or whatever, don't hesitate to call."

"Talking about 'philosophy or whatever'? I'll bring the wine if you bring the cheese. You don't mind cheap wine, do you?" He didn't wait for a reply, shrugging his shoulders and saying, "You don't need to worry about me, Agent Skye, even if people call me abnormal, because let's face it..." Daredevil gestured to his costume, waving his hand up and down. "...they're not wrong."

With that, his smirk turned into a full-on grin, and he sprang out of his crouch and into a backflip, vaulting off the wall and out of sight. Skye ran to the edge to peer down the side of the building, but it was too late. By the time she got there, he'd already vanished. Of course, she hadn't expected anything else.


	8. Analysis

Chapter 8: Analysis

The return journey to the base was mostly silent as Simmons spent more time analyzing Daredevil's blood and Skye spent more time analyzing her own relative success or failure. Not every mission had to have a dramatic ending, like making a new ally or fighting an enemy, but it sure helped her know when she'd done her job right. Right now, she just wasn't sure.

True, she hadn't done anything too stupid, and no one had gotten hurt, but that just made it all the more ambiguous. Skye sighed as she and Simmons made the final trudge up the steps into Coulson's office. "That Daredevil is a piece of work," she summed up, standing at attention in front of his desk and fighting to keep her chin up. Simmons stood next to her out of solidarity, though both of them could have sat down in the chairs opposite their boss without him minding. Skye just felt the need to make this judgment more formal.

Judgment seemed to be the farthest thing from Coulson's mind as he smiled at them and gestured for them to take those seats, which they finally did. "Welcome back, Agents. What did you learn?"

"Well, we didn't learn his identity. We did learn that he plans to stick in Hell's Kitchen defending it from... any and all threats that pop up, apparently. And we did _not_ learn how far he'll take that defense. He's morally against killing, but it seems like besides that, anything and everything goes." This was the part she wasn't confident about: her conclusions. "I'm not sure we need to know any more than that. We should definitely monitor the situation, but for now, I don't think he's a threat."

"Maybe not physically," Simmons interjected. " _Maybe_. But when he as a powered individual runs around dressed like that and beating people within an inch of their lives, it reflects badly on the rest of you."

At this point, Coulson was only listening passively, so Skye answered her friend. "Like Daredevil said, it's not like anyone can prove that he has powers."

" _We_ did. It's in his blood, remember. I saw the mutation."

Now Coulson jumped into the conversation. "What was the cause?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

He nodded slowly and turned to Skye. "Did he say anything that would give you a place to start?"

"Nope."

"Okay, Skye, I'll accept your assessment of the man himself, but I still need you to figure out whatever changed him so that we can secure it."

"Right. That would be easier if we knew who he was, wouldn't it? I guess we're heading back out."

Coulson shook his head. "Simmons has done her part. Now she'll stay here and work on analyzing the blood sample with our labs. You can go back if you want to, but if I were you, I'd utilize some of the resources available to you here on the base."

"What resources?"

"I was thinking Bobbi might be a good place to start."

"But she's..."

His voice took a hard tone for a moment as he reminded her, "Do you think that just because she's injured, she can't contribute?" He didn't have to look down at the stump of his arm for Skye knew that's what he was thinking about. Coulson cleared his throat and softened again, returning to his normal self. "She's good at getting a read on people. One of the best in the biz. Maybe talking to her about your conversations with Daredevil will spark an idea and help you crack his secret identity."

"Yes, sir."

The two exited, and Simmons went straight to her happy place while Skye dragged herself down to the infirmary to see Bobbi and explain the situation. She passed Hunter, who was on his way out to get some lunch. Each tried to muster a sympathetic smile for the other, but neither quite managed.

Skye tip-toed over to Hunter's ex-wife, quiet until she saw that Bobbi's eyes were open. Then she took a seat and announced her presence. "Glad to see you awake. Hey, I don't know if you heard about my mission, but I'm trying to figure out the secret identity of a superpowered vigilante, and I thought you could help."

Bobbi's lips compressed, indicating that she wasn't sure about that, but she said, "I'll do my best." With that, Skye recapped the trip for her as quickly as possible, not sure how many drugs Bobbi was on and how soon she'd nod off. She ended with that last conversation with Daredevil on the roof and how she wished she'd learned more from it. " _I_ wish I'd heard the conversation myself," Bobbi said, "but since you heard it, I'm sure you can learn what you need to from there."

Skye threw up her hands dramatically and asked, "Where do I even start, apart from vague demographics?"

"Personally, I'd start at the crime scenes."

"What crime scenes?"

"Any that Daredevil's been a part of. It seems like he really cares about the people of Hell's Kitchen. When people are hurt, he probably finds some excuse to come back to the scene or to follow up with them."

That tracked. Skye nodded and said, "He does refer victims to lawyers."

"There you go. Look at the people who hang around crime scenes or have a way to learn what's happening there: reporters, EMTs, even cops can go vigilante when they think the system's not working. Then there's lawyers, of course."

Skye quickly nixed that one. "One's fat and the other's blind. And their paralegal's a woman."

"They're not the only lawyers out there. Who prosecutes the people Daredevil collars?"

Catching on, Skye said, "I don't know, but the judges could be suspects, too."

"See, you're getting the hang of this," Bobbi told her approvingly. "So, you have all that research to look forward to. In the meantime, what else did you learn from him? Could you tell anything from the way he spoke?"

"I think he makes his voice sound deeper than it is, because he slipped up once. Hmm. Even with the deep-voice thing, he spoke very precisely. He didn't have much of an accent, which is weird. For someone so obsessed with Hell's Kitchen, you'd think he'd have a New York City accent."

"Not necessarily, depending on his social status. Did he sound educated?"

"Yeah, but he said something about cheap wine that makes me think he's not well off, and the only times he seemed to be listening to my sales pitch were when I mentioned that we provide health care and when I said we were out saving the world. Also, if he had a good job, wouldn't people be more likely to notice if he turned up to work injured all the time? Say a judge shows up to every other case limping or bleeding for mysterious reasons. Don't you think someone would ask questions?"

"Even educated people can be down on their luck." Her eyelids started to flutter shut, but she forced them open again after a yawn. "Sorry. My pain meds are kicking in. What else was I... Oh, right. Look at the people he saves and the people he attacks. Is there any sort of pattern there? It might give you a clue about his past."

"You think he was the victim of a crime?"

"Him or someone he cares about. There's usually a reason someone decides to personally beat up every criminal in the neighborhood. Personal tragedy isn't the only reason, but it's one the most..." She yawned again, longer this time. "...popular."

It was clearly time to leave. "Thanks for helping me start my profile, Bobbi. I'll let you rest now and be back later."

"I look forward to it," Bobbi's sleepy voice replied. "In the meantime, I think Agent Davis wants to hear how your trip went. You can also tell him how accurate his new Daredevil costume is."

That wasn't the worst idea, so Skye plodded on down the halls until she found someone who knew where he was. "In his room," that random person told her. The agent in question looked like one of Gonzales's people, which explained why he only looked vaguely familiar. Not because she thought the people who contributed less were less important.

As she walked, Skye pondered her other options. Of course, the easiest way to crack the Daredevil mystery would be to hear about him from someone who already knew him, but there was no way Foggy was talking. He'd made that perfectly clear. She hadn't tried confronting Matt directly yet, too embarrassed about having lied to him. This was the first time she'd lied to someone she used to know about her career.

Then again, he probably lied to her, so he might agree to let the lies cancel each other out and just go back to... whatever they were before. Skye heaved a deep sigh and rubbed her tired eyes before she reached Davis's room. "Davis!" she called, knocking on the door."

"Come in!"

The door slid open at her command, revealing Davis in his small, shared room, cleaning his pistol on his bed. He had the pieces sprawled out around him on a small tarp, and he jutted his chin in greeting while continuing to work. "Learn anything interesting?" he asked in an overly-casual way that did nothing to disguise the eager grin spreading over his features.

"Not much." She plopped onto his roommate's bed and took her time smirking before she satisfied his curiosity. "Met him, though. Fought him, too." Sort of. She'd tried to prevent him from leaving, and he left with little actual violence.

"Who won?"

"Stalemate." She shrugged. "Hey, I heard you have a Daredevil costume."

Instantly, he grew defensive. "It's for Halloween. Everyone agreed we're doing a superhero theme this year."

"Somehow, I wasn't part of this discussion. Seriously, though? Isn't that overdone around these parts."

As Davis had been in the agency longer than she had, he was quick to correct her assumptions. "No, usually SHIELD agents don't do big Halloween parties, and when we have in the past, we've steered away from superheroes. Honestly, I think Coulson just wanted an excuse to dress up as Captain America." He paused and reflected. "I wonder if he'll still do it with us. You know, ever since the..." He pointed at his hand. "...he's been spending more time in his office."

She'd noticed that, too, but it seemed normal for him to want his space. "Yeah, well, the suit. Can I see it?"

Self-consciously, Davis dug out a box from under his bed. As he unpacked the red and black suit, he said, "Obviously, the material's different from what Daredevil uses, and no one's gotten a good enough look to make a _totally_ accurate design. The mask is definitely wrong." He passed it over to her for her inspection.

Though plastic, it appeared to be about the same design as Skye had seen on the man himself, and she turned it over in her hands. "What do you mean?"

"Those little red lenses for the eyes are really hard to see out of. I couldn't imagine fighting like that in the dark all the time."

That triggered something in the back of her mind, though she wasn't sure what yet. "What?"

"You know, 'cause he's always fighting at night and killing the lights before he attacks people. Try that in _this_ mask, and you wouldn't be able to see a thing."

"Oh."

Epiphanies sometimes struck out of the blue. This one had been smacking her in the head for a while now, and when she finally acknowledged it, she only wished she'd ignored it a little longer. Slowly, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Matt Murdock's number. "So are you up for that wine and cheese?" she asked without preamble. "Actually, scratch that. I'm not much of a wine drinker, but I do expect beer."

It didn't take long for Daredevil to respond. "Come by my apartment tonight."

Even though Skye had just gotten back to the base and was perfectly capable of having this conversation over the phone, she preferred to do it in person. And she knew she'd have to fly back anyway to look into whatever changed him. "See you then."

When she hung up, she found Davis staring at her with wide eyes. "Was that him?"

"Yeah, that was him." She smiled wryly. "Thanks, Davis. You were a big help." She left him there before he could ask questions, and then she swung by the lab to pick up Simmons. "Hey, Simmons, could you come to Coulson's office with me?"

"Of course! Oh, did you hear about the Halloween party?" Simmons gushed. "Finally, I have a reason to break out my Peggy Carter outfit. Fitz is disappointed that he can't come as a monkey. Do you still have your Iron Man suit?" Silence met her questions, so she prompted, "Skye?"

"Does everyone on this base have a Halloween costume tucked away somewhere?"

"May probably doesn't... though she's gone now. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, it's just... costumes. Why can't anyone be what they seem to be?"

Simmons smiled gently. "I assume that comment is in relation to something I wasn't privy to."

They marched through the break room and up to the Director's office, letting themselves in as some men as finished mounting a fire ax onto the wall next to the window. "Good, thanks," Coulson told them as they swept up the dust from the holes they'd made. "I can finish cleaning up later."

It took Skye a moment to realize what it was, but she wasted no time in confronting the issue head on. "Coulson, is that the ax that cut off your hand?"

"Yep. What do you think?"

"I think it's weird." "Unsettling" or "unhealthy" might've been better word choices. Skye stepped aside to let the workmen past, and they all exchanged knowing looks.

"I had it cleaned first."

There might be more issues to address here, but that could wait until she got back from her trip. "Matt Murdock is Daredevil."

"The blind lawyer?" he asked as Simmons said,

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, I guess he's not really blind. Maybe when he got his powers, they cured him and he couldn't think of any way to explain away his sudden sight."

"Or he could still be blind," Simmons suggested. "There are things more outlandish than a disabled superhero."

 _Subtle, Simmons_ , Skye thought, catching Coulson's eye roll. "I'm heading back to talk to him tonight and hopefully secure whatever it was that transformed him."

"That explains why Foggy was so protective of his identity. Do you think he'd let me study him? Matthew, I mean. Not Foggy."

"Not likely."

"Then I think I'd just as soon stay here and spend some time with his blood."

"Fun. Mind if I head out, sir?"

Coulson sat behind his desk and sipped some coffee from his Grumpy Cat mug. Not "his" exactly. No one had ever admitted to owning it, so Coulson unofficially commandeered it on a long term basis. "You can go," he said, "and I'm assigning you a long-term partner. Given the personal nature of this New York trip, I'll let you decide whether you want to take him or not into the actual meet."

Still convinced there weren't any good _named_ agents left, Skye asked, "Who is it?" As long as it wasn't one of Gonzales's guys...

"Agent Mackenzie."

"Mack? The one who was spying on our base here and helped start a coup?"

"That's the one," Coulson confirmed. "He finally agreed to work in the field."

Her eyes strayed to the ax that Mack had used to chop off Coulson's hand. "So do you not trust me or do you not trust him?"

"I trust you both, Skye, but you both have a very different way of looking at things, and if you balance his caution with your eagerness and confidence, I think you could make quite the team."

"But _he_ doesn't trust Inhumans!"

"He has a better opinion of you than you seem to think."

That didn't completely set her mind at ease. "I think I'd still rather see Matt alone. Does Mack really have to come at all? Matt's not dangerous. Not to me."

"He's going. Enjoy your trip."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what we'll be doing."


	9. Daredevil

Chapter 9: Daredevil

The silence in the quinjet was broken about halfway through when Mack finally addressed the "elephant on the plane" as Ward once put it. "You know I'm on your side, right?"

This was a crucial moment, one that would determine the course of their partnership, and while Skye wasn't completely sure of his intentions, she didn't want to get off on the wrong foot. Even if he had called her dangerous and said SHIELD needed to be protected from her. Even if he'd infiltrated and then attacked the base, injuring some people and kidnapping others. "You saved Coulson's life," she replied, "and you're still here. That's what counts." She really didn't want to risk liking him, though, or getting attached again, in case he ended up turning on her again.

His leg bounced up and down on the floor of the plane with rarely-seen nervous energy. "So, uh, what's with the Cheez-Its?"

Rather than explaining how she couldn't find any actual cheese on the base and didn't want to be bothered shopping, she said, "Sort of an inside joke. Don't worry; I don't think Matt will give us any trouble."

"Yeah? What about whatever gave him his still-undefined superpowers? Think we'll get any trouble from that?"

"I guess we could," Skye admitted.

The rest of the trip stayed mostly silent, punctuated by a few weak attempts at conversation. Both of them were trying, and as long as they both kept trying, Skye hoped they could make this work. The crux of the matter really was whether or not she could trust him. So many people had lied to her in the past few years. Miles, Ward, the rest of the Hydra agents within SHIELD, the "Real SHIELD," her mother. Even Matt.

Skye's fist clenched around the Cheez-It box as they made their cloaked landing in a park, and she took a cab down to Matt's place. He didn't answer when she knocked, and she realized they'd never set an exact time. She dialed his phone and listened to the ringing coming from inside the apartment.

Frowning, she knocked on the door again. "Matt!" she called. Still nothing. She hated to bust down a second door within the span of two days, so she picked the lock and called his name again just to make sure she didn't get hit in the face when she entered.

When she made it through the front hallway to the main living area, she found a deserted room bathed in changing shades of neon. A bright billboard outside lit the interior and allowed her to explore the rest of the small space without bumping into anything. Once she'd assured herself that the bedroom and bathroom were devoid of life as well, and that the door at the top of the steps that lead to the roof was locked, she risked turning on the lights. ( _Why would he even have lights if he was blind?_ she asked herself. _Or that art on the wall? Karen mentioned that, back when we were shopping._ )

Then she called Matt again and followed the sound to his cell phone. It lay abandoned on his bed alongside a suit and dress shirt, with a pair of work shoes kicked underneath the bed. Finding no answers here, she returned to the main room and immediately went to investigate a battered green trunk that sat open against one wall.

A tray that looked like it fit into the trunk lay beside it, and Skye started there, picking through an old boxing robe and other memorabilia belonging to Matt's father, the locally famous Battlin' Jack Murdock, who'd been murdered when Matt was young. The bottom portion of the trunk was a little more interesting. There was a Braille book with a cross on the cover (presumably a Bible or prayer book) and a little rosary tucked in a corner, and the rest was full of worn black clothing and light padding.

A voice from overhead answered her thoughts on the subject. "That was the early model." When Skye whipped her head up, she saw Daredevil standing at the top of the staircase, in full red and black regalia, just as she'd seen him last. This time he wasn't hiding, though.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"I keep the door oiled." He limped down the stairs, wincing as he descended to her level. He waved one gloved hand to the kitchen portion of the room. "Beer's in the fridge. Help yourself."

"I brought Cheez-Its. Does that mean we're ready to talk about philosophy?"

"Or whatever."

Skye snorted and stood up. "Okay, let's start with why you've been pretending to be blind."

As Daredevil drew closer, she could see his lower features more clearly, including the swollen cheekbone highlighted by a thick red line from his scabbed-over injury. He removed his mask and tousled the hair that it had flattened. "I'm not pretending to be blind. I'm pretending I don't have... _other_ abilities."

"And what would those be?"

"The short version: my other senses are enhanced. Make yourself comfortable for a minute. I have to change."

Skye regarded the mind-boggling image of blind Matt Murdock's head on top of a vigilante's costume. "You don't have to do that on my account."

"I'm not. Ice packs don't work well through the suit."

He slipped into his room and slid the door shut again, and Skye asked through the thin barrier, "If you're blind, how come you have these old newspaper articles about your dad?"

There was a long pause. "It helps me to know they're there. Like a talisman, I guess you could say. Besides, other people still want to see them, and sometimes I let them."

So the lights and art were probably for other people, too. She did grab a beer from the fridge, break into the Cheez-Its, and settle into a black armchair. The chair faced away from the bedroom, but Skye tried not to think of him as the enemy, or someone who'd sneak up and assassinate her given half the chance.

Well, he wouldn't assassinate her if what he said about his no-killing rule was true. "Hey, Matt? What you were saying about SHIELD back at Foggy's place..."

"Yes, I still expect you to pay for the door."

"I mean the rest of it," she clarified unnecessarily. He was teasing her again. "Would you have said it if you weren't in the mask?"

The door opened. "Yes, although I would've used a different voice."

He shuffled past her and made his way to the kitchen. Skye studied his back as he continued to limp along, checking out the trim torso outline visible beneath his tight t-shirt, along with his muscular arms. His lower half was more ambiguous, shrouded in a pair of baggy sweatpants, the ankles of which were tucked into his tube socks.

It was an oddly humanizing detail, and Skye found herself smiling a little as Matt washed his hands and returned from the kitchen with his ice pack and beer. He lowered himself onto the couch opposite from her, propped his left foot up on his coffee table, and applied the ice. As he arranged himself accordingly, Skye worked on her drink, and when he was done, she asked, "So, how did you get your powers?"

"It was the accident that blinded me."

Her spine went rigid. "Wait, all this time? You've had superpowers _all this time_?"

"All the time you've known me," Matt confirmed, "and a little more. What about you? I'm sure you didn't have vibration powers back then. Those are loud and annoying, by the way."

"Recent transformation. I'm what you would call an Inhuman. That means I..." A smile flitted across his face, which he masked by raising his beer to his lips. "You already knew that, didn't you? You were listening to me and Simmons talk the other night. That's how you knew we were lying and that we were SHIELD agents."

"I knew something was up since I met you at the orphanage the other day. First you and Simmons were lying left and right about what you did, and then after I left you two, you started talking about how you were going to draw out Daredevil. It sort of worked, by the way. I watched over you that night, and I had to scare off a couple guys headed your way with knives. Eventually, I decided it'd be simpler to have Foggy drag you into Josie's." He huffed at the memory. "If I hadn't been walking Karen home afterwards, maybe I would've heard your plans for Night #2, and we would've been spared that confrontation. Yes, I followed you to your hotel after that and heard the part about SHIELD."

"Were you there when I went to the window?" She was disappointed when he shook his head, though not surprised. She'd been hoping she'd at least caught him in the act, but apparently not. "Never mind. Why didn't you ever say anything back in the day?"

"It was the first instinct of a nine-year-old boy to keep his mouth shut and not draw attention to himself."

"Being blind, you still got noticed. When kids picked on you, you could've set them straight."

Matt took another swig from the glass bottle. "Better that than the alternative. I didn't know about agencies like SHIELD at the time; I just had a vague sense that it would be bad for me to say anything. For the most part, I'm glad I went with that instinct. It's safer for me and for the people I care about if others underestimate me."

"Don't you hate that?"

He considered his answer. "For the most part, it's empowering to know something they don't. When people talk down to me – intentionally or unintentionally – _that's_ what I can't stand."

At least he was talking more freely now that he didn't have his _big_ secret to protect. "You must eavesdrop on people a lot."

"More than I should, less than I could. Unless there's crime afoot, I block out what I can."

That seemed a fair enough answer, so Skye let it go at that. "So, would you mind if I asked you some questions while I'm here?"

"I figured that's why you came, but first, I have some questions for you, namely: How many people are going to know about me, and what do you plan to do about it?"

"People will only learn your secret identity if there's a reason they need to know – basically the Director and his inner circle, plus anyone who's involved in a related case."

His fingers drummed against his bottle. "And you're 100% positive that no one can leak your secrets all over the web like Black Widow did? And that you do not have and will not have any spies in the ranks like your Hydra friends?"

Boy, was Skye tired of people throwing that word around. "They're not my friends."

"Really? None of them were your friends? None of them were people you trusted? And are you really arrogant enough to believe that it could never happen again?"

The truth of the words hit her in the gut. Matt didn't pull his punches verbally any more than he did physically. "Yes, _Daredevil_ , I know not everyone is what they seem. Even if you've known them for a long time and even if you think they're your friends."

Matt spread his hands wide, pausing to punctuate his point. "Then you know why it's so important for me to keep my identity hidden."

After her mouth opened and closed uselessly a couple times, Skye finally said, "See, this is why no one likes lawyers. I _do_ get it, Matt; I really do, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the Director. He's reviewing our powered index policies anyway."

"Why? Recent security breach?"

Her uncomfortable silence provided his confirmation. In fact it was Skye's own father who recently used SHIELD's index to form a bad guy squad. "I'll talk to him," she repeated. "He's a reasonable guy."

"I'll accept that for now, but I want a follow-up."

"Absolutely. Maybe he'd even talk to you himself if that would set your mind at ease." If his mind was _ever_ at ease, which was a state she'd never noticed from him before.

"What about the other matter? What do you all intend to do about Daredevil right now?"

"We'll keep an eye on the news and on police reports, and as long as it looks like you're not taking things too far, there's no need to interfere." In the old days, SHIELD would've taken no chances, but they didn't have the resources to hold onto too many prisoners at once, and giving him to Talbot would've been a drastic step. "But personally, I'd appreciate you taking things down a notch. As Simmons pointed out to me recently, when one superhero acts out like that, it looks bad for the rest of us."

"I'm not a superhero."

"Fine. 'Powered person,' then." She thought back to the victims she'd been interviewing earlier. "Simmons and I were talking with a Mr. Dixon recently. You left him pretty badly off." Another brief smile from Matt, as quickly suppressed as the others. This time, though, the light in his eyes was different. He wasn't poking fun at her, he was relishing a memory. "Do you know who I'm talking about?" she asked although she knew the answer to the question.

"Stanley Dixon. B&E gone wrong. He woke up a kid who didn't want apartment to be robbed, and the decided to be a hero. He confronted Mr. Dixson with a baseball bat and got three broken bones for his trouble."

"Dixon had more than that when you were through with him. He said he even when he was down, you didn't stop beating on him." She tried to keep it non-confrontational and non-accusatory by eating some of her Cheez-Its. It didn't help.

Matt took a handful, too, and munched slowly. "That wasn't a question. Didn't you say you had some questions you wanted me to answer?"

"Yeah, here's the first one: Why do you hurt people that badly?"

"It's not because I like hurting people, or because I can't control myself. Aren't those your two biggest worries? I do it because I need to. Fear and the threat of violence can keep some people in check. You saw the bikers the other night. They would've gotten into a pointless scuffle, and innocent people could've gotten hurt, but they thought twice and decided it wasn't worth it."

Skye sincerely hoped that was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She would let it go for now, but she'd definitely keep an eye on the level of violence when keeping tabs on Daredevil. "And you really didn't kill that ninja archer at St. Agnes?" He shook his head, and she backed off that line of questioning. "Okay, good enough. Now my big question of the night: what can you tell me about the stuff that gave you your powers?"

"It was a radioactive isotope in a few containers of hazardous chemicals made by Rand Oil & Chemicals. That's part of an international corporation called Rand Enterprises, which is based here in the city. They swept the incident under the rug as much as they could, but I did some digging when I got older, and I found that the chemicals were part of a batch that went bad, and that's why Rand was in a hurry to get it out of the city. It's not something that's actually in production, and it would be nearly impossible to reproduce, given that the project managers weren't sure what went wrong in the first place."

"Those project managers sound awfully chatty. I suppose some 'fear and threats of violence' from Daredevil was enough to loosen their tongues."

"Only after they refused to talk to Matt Murdock."

"Does Matt Murdock often talk about himself in the third person?"

Matt flushed, finally caught off-guard. "Only for the purposes of distinction. I know that Matt and Daredevil are the same person." That didn't sound better, so he tried again. "That they're both a part of me. There's really no good way to say that, is there?" He laughed off the misspoken words. "So, Skye, did SHIELD want anything else from me?"

"Well, Simmons wants to study you."

"That's a flat no."

"Figured. She's already gone."

"Replaced by the man outside?"

The comment took Skye aback for a second. She hadn't specifically asked Mack to stay in the quinjet, but she assumed he would. _He_ might've assumed he was supposed to follow her from a safe distance, but they didn't actually talk about it. That's what they got for spending most of the ride in awkward silence. "Hang on a sec." She put in her earpiece and switched it on. "Hey, Mack, is that you outside?"

"Yeah. Need me?"

"No. Just making sure. I'm going back to radio silence." She popped it out again and switched it off before tucking it back in her pocket. "Sorry 'bout that."

Matt was deep in thought by this point. "I don't know if it means anything, Skye, but I wouldn't have lied to you if it wasn't important. I know I've lied to a lot of people over the years, and I know it hurts to be lied to, but..." He shook his head. "Actually, there's no 'but.' I just hope you can understand."

The sad brown eyes took a lot of the anger out of whatever he was going to say next. (Had she ever seen his eyes before? She didn't think so.) Skye deflated in her chair, tension draining from her and giving way to exhaustion. "I'm a spy. Of course I understand. I lie to people all the time. I just don't like it when people lie to _me_. For the record, I'm also sorry I lied to you when I first came back to the city. I really just wanted to use St. Agnes, and then you, to accomplish my mission."

"I know, and I'm not going to judge you for that. That's just the reality of the world we live in."

It was entirely possible that Skye had finally met someone as cynical as Agent May. "That's a terrible way of looking at things, Matt. There are good, honest people out there, too."

He shrugged. "Most people would lie for one reason or another, even if it is only to protect themselves or their loved ones. Just like most people would hurt someone under the right set of circumstances, and it doesn't necessarily mean they're bad people. For me, intentions are important, and I trust yours."

Okay, fine. He was less cynical than May. Just like most of Earth's population. "Likewise. You know, it's funny, but before I joined SHIELD, I was part of a hacktivist group dedicated to exposing truth. At the time, I thought the public had the right to know everything about everything, but now..." She shook her head.

"Now it's a little more complicated than that."

"Yeah." Skye stood slowly, thinking that was a good note to end on. "I think I should be getting back, but I'll let you know what the Director says."

"Thank you, Skye. And after you get that sorted one way or another, maybe we could catch up for real."

Skye hesitated, tried to think what angles he might be working, and then made a firm effort to accept his offer at face value. " I'd like that," she said. She exited, pondering the Matt Murdock philosophy of "everyone lies but it doesn't necessarily mean they're bad people." It was good that he thought that, seeing what he did to those he considered to _be_ "bad people." As for her... Well, everyone she worked with was a liar by trade, and they were some of the best people she'd ever known.

She took her time exiting the building, but Mack wasted no time in joining her once she was out. "What did you learn?" he asked anxiously, eyes on the looming apartment above.

"He thinks the chemical that changed him was all destroyed, but we can check to make sure."

"Yeah, and what about him?"

Skye smiled, knowing Matt was probably listening, and said, "I think he's one of the good guys." She paused, cleared her throat, and then ventured, "Hey, Mack, do you want to grab pizza before we go back to the base? There's this place I used to go as I kid, and I've been craving a slice."

Mack tilted his head, surprised by the sudden request. "Uh, sure," he stuttered out. "I mean, we probably shouldn't take too long in case Murdock was wrong and we really do have dangerous substances to secure."

"Well then, partner, we'd better get moving."


	10. Bonus Scene: Hoping for Something

Bonus Scene: Hoping for Something

 _Author's Note:_ I've been surprised at how many people subscribed to this story even after it was already completed, but because you did, I've decided to write you a couple bonus scenes. I just finished this one and am working on a second, which should come out soon. Enjoy!

xXx

 _Saint Agnes Orphanage, 2001_

Math wasn't her best subject on a good day, but it was rendered nearly impossible when the numbers swam on the page in front of her. Mary swiped away her tears, catching a line of snot on her sleeve, too, and clenched her jaw.

This homework wasn't going to get the best of her. Not as long as she stayed in school, anyway. Mary planned to drop out as soon as she could, and then she wouldn't need to do stupid math. Just computers and stuff she actually cared about.

"Anything I can do?"

The gentle voice surprised her, and she jerked her head up. She had to blink when she stared up from her bench at the face, as her visitor was directly in front of the sun. "Matt?" she asked, not entirely sure of the silhouette at first. She hadn't heard his footsteps, or even the cane that he tapped back and forth in front of him as he walked.

"Mm hm."

Oh, he probably didn't realize the sun was behind him. "Are you any good at math?" she asked as she blinked and shielded her eyes with the hand that gripped her chewed pencil.

"Usually." Mary was sure he was being modest. Not that she'd seen his report cards, but she'd heard it was always straight A's. Of course, that didn't mean he was automatically good at everything. He could just work hard. Well, he definitely worked hard. More often than not, whenever she saw him sitting out in the orphanage's little yard, his fingers were running lightly over lines of Braille text, and he often had a deep frown plastered across his face. That was actually the main reason she didn't bug him much.

"Then sure." She scooted over to make room for him, and now when he sat beside her, she could see him more clearly. The sun didn't hide him now. It only glinted off the red highlights in his hair that only seemed to show up in bright light. He didn't say anything else, didn't ask her about her homework. He just sat there with his head tilted quizzically until she sighed and said, "I was crying 'cause I got dumped, okay?"

Clearly he'd heard her crying, even if she though she'd been quiet and thought she'd been alone. Matt nodded but still didn't speak. Even though she didn't specify, he had to know that she meant she'd been sent back by another family.

As she began to understand that she wouldn't be getting her math done right away, Mary decided to interrogate Matt a little. After all, he was one of the people who kept most to himself around here, and she didn't know when she'd catch him in a mood where he might be willing to share. ( _Next time I get sent back_ , she answered herself bitterly. _He'll feel sorry for me then, too_.) "How many times have you been sent back?" she asked him.

"None."

"No one's ever tried to adopt you? Foster you, even?"

"Nah." Matt finally propped his cane against the side of the bench. "Too old. Too blind." Mary nodded. She knew that most parents wanted younger kids, and it made sense that most would want kids who weren't handicapped. You didn't want too many of those kinds of things stacking up against you.

Mary still hadn't figured out what her "thing" was – why no one wanted her. "What about when you were younger?"

Matt chewed on his lower lip and fiddled with the fabric of his pant leg. Mary felt the shift in mood while he thought about his answer. He might gave her some brush-off answer about bad luck to make it seem like it didn't bother him. That was the sort of answer you had to give grown-ups to make them leave you alone or kids that you didn't want to look weak in front of. Instead, to Mary's surprise, Matt gave an answer that sounded like the truth, or part of it, at least. "Too many other issues," he admitted. "I was... having some trouble adjusting after I lost my sight and then my dad."

A flash of a memory flitted across Mary's mind. "I... I think I remember. Everyone thought you were crazy or something." Somehow, she'd forgotten about that. He'd been fine for the past few years, so she'd forgotten about it. Thought he was just sick or something when he first arrived. But back then she was scared of him, like everyone else.

He probably never forgot about it. He tried a shrug and then scuffed his sneaker along the blacktop. "Yeah, well, the sisters didn't want to stick me with any families until they were sure I could handle it and that I wouldn't..." Here, he twitched. "...relapse."

"Sorry."

"No, I think you have it harder."

Mary bobbed her head, and her dark ponytail brushed the back of her neck. "Yeah, you don't have to worry about people getting rid of you if they don't take you in the first place."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I don't really want to lose anyone else."

"Me neither, but I still want a family."

Finally, he smiled at her, and that smile lit up his face like it always did and made Mary's heart skip a beat. She knew he wasn't flirting, but that smile made her feel special, and that was something she could use a lot more of. "Then you're braver than me," Matt said.

"Thanks," she said, and she could feel a genuine smile answering his.

The moment was nearly spoiled when Sister Elizabeth barreled outside, bellowing, "Mary Sue! I told you to stay inside until you finished your... Matthew." Her sharp voice mellowed a little bit, and she twisted around in confusion after halting in front of the pair. "Weren't you just...?" She looked at the building and then back at Matt. "Never mind, I'm getting old."

"I was just helping Mary with her math homework," Matt assured the aging nun.

"Well, it'll have to be inside," Sister Elizabeth said, glancing between the model child and the troublemaker. "She's grounded until she finishes."

"Yes, ma'am," Matt replied promptly, grabbing his cane and the arm that Mary offered him. ( _Was that the arm I just wiped my nose on?_ she wondered in a panic. _Real smooth, Mary._ )

The girl pouted a little at having to go inside, but at least she'd been spared the scolding she normally would've gotten. And at least they could be in one of the common rooms, since boys weren't allowed in the girls' rooms. Mary was sick of staring at her walls.

"Do you prefer Mary Sue or Mary?" Matt asked suddenly as Mary led the way inside the dreary building with its stark walls and dim lights. He was a little lucky he didn't have to see this every day.

"What?"

"Some of the sisters say Mary Sue, but I think I've always called you Mary. Which do you like better?"

"Actually, I kind of hate both. The nuns picked my name. It's dumb."

"Oh. What would you like me to call you?"

He asked the question like it was the most natural thing in the world, but somehow, Mary had never realized that she might have other options. "What do you mean?" she asked, almost suspiciously.

"You know, like a nickname or whatever. If you don't like your name, we can all call you something else."

A warm hope crept into her heart. A hope that she wouldn't always be stuck with... whatever this life was. "Really?"

"Sure. You can even legally change it when you get old enough. You don't have to be Mary Sue. You can be whoever you want."

Mary liked the sound of that. Not the "legally" part. She couldn't care less about what was legal. "I'll think about it," she said.

Naming yourself wasn't like naming a teddy bear, where you'd look at it and sometimes you'd just know what its name was. (Not that she'd had a teddy bear for a few years. She'd given them away to the little kids when she didn't need them anymore.) Anyway, she'd lived with herself for almost twelve years now and had never looked in the mirror and thought, _Hmm, I look like a Samantha._ Naming yourself took time.

"Thanks, Matt," she said, plopping onto a worn couch. "Now let's get this math done."


	11. Bonus Scene: The Beginning

Bonus Scene: The Beginning

 _Saint Agnes Orphanage, 1996_

"Don't go into the new kid's room," Katie had whispered to her as they carried their jump ropes outside. She said it with a hint of a dare and a twinkle in her eyes. She wanted Mary to go in and then be able to groan, "I _told_ you so," when she got caught.

"You mean Matt Murdock? He gets a whole room to himself?"

"That's because he's going crazy." She looked over her shoulder this way and that to make sure no nuns would hear her gossiping.

Mary tried to look doubtful, even though she secretly hoped it was true. The orphanage could use a crazy person. Or maybe a ghost. "I heard he was blind. Maybe someone was just saying he was crazy to be mean."

With an adamant shake of her two perfect pigtails, Katie said, "Nuh uh. Tommy said when he was helping Sister Barbara in the kitchen, he heard Sister Elizabeth in the next room saying that no one can figure out what's wrong with him. They've brought in doctors and priests and a psycho doctor…"

"Psychiatrist," Mary corrected, feeling proud of the word.

"Whatever. They couldn't figure out what was wrong, and that was all Tommy heard before Sister Barbara went and told Sister Elizabeth to stop talking so loud." They reached the yard, and Katie unfurled her jump rope and began to skip over the pink beads as they clacked against the blacktop. "Anyway, we're supposed to stay away from the new kid. I'll bet he's dangerous or something."

Even though Mary knew the trick and rolled her eyes, she also knew that she'd break before long. Katie knew it, too, and Mary hated the little smirk that played over her best friend's mouth all day. That night, Katie went to bed with an exaggerated stretch and yawn. "Good night, Mary," she called across the room, untying the bows from her pigtails and sliding into bed with her head almost under the covers.

In other words, if Mary decided to slip out in the middle of the night, Katie could always say she didn't know. Of course it didn't take Mary long to actually get moving, padding barefoot over the wooden floors and avoiding the squeaky parts as much as she could. She knew where most of them were, but some spots were hit-or-miss, and others made noise no matter _how_ you walked over them.

Mary made it all the way to the boys' rooms in less than two minutes, but it felt like an hour as part of her wanted to stay back in the safety of her room but her feet kept carrying her forward through nun-infested halls to a crazy person's bedroom.

There it was, though – the second-to-last room on the right. He wasn't crazy, she told herself. She was sure she'd even seen the new kid around when he first arrived – dark glasses hiding the emotion in his eyes. He hadn't said anything to anyone, but that wasn't crazy. About half the new kids stayed quiet, while the other half cried and begged for their parents. Katie was probably just saying things to scare her or to make her sneak around at night.

A small moan from the other side of the door changed her mind about that, and she froze with her hand on the knob. After a second of chewing on the inside of her mouth and calling herself a sissy, she finally gripped the knob and cracked the door open wide enough to poke her head in. There was a dresser to her left and a bed in front of her with the head against the right wall, but not much else.

Mary was prepared for the shape in the bed, but she still gasped when it moved and covered her mouth until she was sure she wouldn't gasp again. She heard ragged breathing from the body under the covers as it twitched back and forth. That must be Matt.

 _Maybe he's just having a bad dream_ , she thought, slipping inside the door and shutting it quietly behind her. "Hey, there," she whispered.

A short whimper was the only reply.

"You're just having a bad dream." She took a few more cautious steps forward. "It's okay. We all have them." A few more steps and she was almost across the tiny room. "But I think you'd be happier if I woke you up."

"No," Matt murmured.

Not sure what else to do, Mary repeated, "It's okay. Shh." She reached him and touched the lump under the covers where his shoulder was, but her fingers barely grazed the blankets when the boy flinched away and begged,

"Please stop. It hurts."

Mary's eyebrows knitted together, and she frowned at him. "It hurt when I touched you?" She asked this in a more normal voice, still a little softer than normal, but Matt clapped his hands over his ears.

"Stop."

Not entirely sure he could hear her through his hands, Mary still lowered her voice again before asking, "You want me to stop talking?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It hurts."

Maybe he had a headache or something. Mary hoped that was it. She felt herself shrinking away from him until she realized he might just be acting like this for attention. She tiptoed over to the little desk lamp that came with all the rooms, even though he wouldn't need it, and she turned it on before returning to Matt's side. "Your head hurts?" she asked, tugging back the covers so she could see more of him.

He rolled onto his side to face away from her and said, "Everything hurts. Everything hurts. It's just so loud, and your hand is so heavy, and… and… just stop it."

The panic in his voice sounded real, and the flash of tears she saw staining his cheeks before he turned away weren't just for her benefit. Mary felt a sinking in her stomach as she realized that Katie might be right, and that having a crazy person in Saint Agnes might not be fun or cool. It might just be… sad. And scary.

"I just want everything to stop," he said again. "Please make it stop."

Mary found her feet shuffling backwards again towards the lamp. "I… I can't make it stop," she stuttered.

"Then can you go away?"

"Uh…" Mary stopped to fumble for the lamp.

"Go away!" As the words ripped out of his throat with a desperate edge, he spasmed at the sound of his own voice. Worse, he was loud enough to wake the nuns.

Finally, Mary's trembling fingers snagged the lamp cord. "I'm going. I'm sorry." She darted out the door with one more, "I'm sorry!" and charged down the hallway.

She made it to her room and dove into bed as the nuns started to emerge from their own rooms and shuffle down the narrow corridor to find the source of the disturbance. That was the only shout that night, but Mary quaked at every noise, and she spent most of the night snapping awake whenever she started to drift off.

Once in a while, she caught a few minutes of fitful rest, but mostly, she lay there imagining all kinds of noises. She thought she heard groans and cries, but it was probably only the wind outside. Still, in the little cavern her blankets made, Mary whispered "I'm sorry" over and over again until Katie came and tapped her on the shoulder.

Mary flinched away but then peeled back the covers with a sniffle. "You're just having a bad dream," Katie told her with a reassuring smile. "It's okay."

 _No, it's not_ , Mary thought, but she didn't say so. "Sorry," she said again. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Whatever, it's almost time to get up anyway." Really, there were about two hours left before they had to get up. "So, I guess you went… Never mind. Wanna play Go Fish before breakfast?"

"Yeah." She struggled into a sitting position and pulled out the playing cards that were contraband at Saint Agnes. She knew that she wasn't getting any more sleep that night. And she also knew she would never sneak into Matt Murdock's room again.

But she wouldn't admit her cowardice to Katie. Instead, she dealt the cards, made the river between them, and asked, "Do you have a five?"


End file.
